Harry Potter and the War of Souls: Phoenix
by The Fat Chipmunk
Summary: PostHBP 'No man is an island, Harry,' he said quietly. 'This is not, and never was, a fight for one man. And I imagine that you will find thousands of people willing to help you, if only you let them. There will always be someone to support you.' COMPLETE
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Who, us?

**Harry Potter and the War of Souls: Phoenix**  
by _jynkyg _and _The Fat Chipmunk_

_The locket…the cup…the snake…something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's…_ The war against Voldemort rises to a new level as Harry sets out to find and destroy the Horcruxes. Shocking discoveries are made, bloody battles are fought, and teenagers learn to cope with death, betrayal, grief, and love as the Final Battle draws ever nearer. And the Boy Who Lived discovers the true meanings of sacrifice and scars as he witnesses an end that no one could have foreseen.

Note: We've got roughly four months to write all this up and post it, so everything'll go pretty quick. It's basically just another seventh year fic (and a rewrite of The Fat Chipmunk's abandoned _War of Souls: Banewreaker_ - thus the similar title - so it'll have some elements of Banewreaker in it. It's not plagiarism, we swear), filled with as much drama, missing plot pieces, evil lords, and snogging as we could find room for. Completely canon, including several major character deaths and assuming Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, and whatever other pairing we fancy. Happy reading! ;)

By golly, we almost forgot - much thanks extended to our beta Rezallia, for her time and patience in editing and revising. :)

* * *

**Prologue** – _"The greatest deeds are often those that go by unnoticed, unrecognized, and unseen for their true worth."_

It was an ancient building, to say the least.

Straight out of a nightmare, it was a frightful, unseemly blotch on the lush green clearing it stood upon, like a careless splatter of paint upon a picturesque canvas. A monolithic ruin even by the lowest standards, its gaping, jagged windows and thick oaken doors hanging precariously from rusted hinges radiated a bone-numbing chill into the warm summer night.

The sky above was an angry, stormy grayish blue, as if the swollen clouds were full of bruises. A pale moon strained to penetrate the dark veil, casting an eerie murkiness to the shadows of the towering trees nearby.

All was quiet and still, with not a breeze to set the gnarled, bare branches crackling. There was no movement to stir the tall, overgrown grass, to betray any sign of life.

A pair of round, yellow eyes, impossibly bright, blinked into existence high up on a knotted branch, half hidden by twisted, parched tangles of leaves. Keenly, the luminous eyes surveyed the great, crumbling structure, as if convinced it would soon spring to life.

A grunt; the rough slither of something – or someone – being dragged through the grass, followed by a stream of fierce invective drifted out of the thick copse, prompting the yellow gaze to swivel to eye this new phenomenon.

"In the name of Merlin," a voice hissed. Its owner, a tall, black-cloaked figure, leaned against the crooked trunk of an ancient birch. After a moment of labored breathing – the harsh sound of which echoed through the palpably thick air of the forest's edge – the figure bent over to inspect a ragged heap at its feet. Only by the slight rise and fall of tattered robes could it be discerned that the heap was alive.

Another round of curses ensued as the tall figure hauled the unresponsive bundle onto its back and stumbled drunkenly under the watchful yellow gaze to pass into the clearing. It headed arduously toward the old ruin, its path marked by the parting wave of long grass. When the big entrance doors were finally reached, the figure swung them open with an unsteady nudge of a foot and staggered inside the building.

High in the knobby boughs, the insistent yellow eyes contemplated the black void beyond the crooked doors that had swallowed the figure and its burden.

Then they blinked once, cautiously and purposefully, and vanished.

--------

"_Damn_."

He stood swaying in the austerely furnished entrance hall, the worn flagstone floor spreading before him at once familiar and distortedly alien. He dazedly observed his surroundings, whose size and condition clearly belied the decrepit exterior, taking in the high domed ceiling and the extravagant marble staircase opposite him that seemed to flow upward; the vast curtained opening to the right and an enormous, immaculate fireplace to the left; the flickering candles held sternly upright by twisting silver snakes that extended from gleaming brackets.

A dry, rattling cough from his burden prompted his wandering mind back to reality. He lurched forward, feeling oddly light-headed, and trusted his feet to remember the right path. Vaguely he tottered up the marble steps, stumbled onto the first landing and hobbled down a dim corridor. He tried to count how many doors he had passed, but each one seemed to meld with the next, and he staggered on.

A lance shot up his right leg every time he put his weight on it; a nail was driven deeper into his skull with every passing moment; a rope tightened around his lungs every time he attempted to draw breath. Exhaustion whined in his ear to stop moving, to crumple on the floor and just _rest_; it nagged and begged at his arms to drop the cumbersome load upon his back.

He snarled and snapped and hissed at it all, determinedly pressing on – he had made it this far and would not die at the doorstep, no matter how many people willed it of him. And finally he was there, in front of the door he had never seen before but knew instinctively was his, and he crashed against it before remembering he had to turn the doorknob.

His numb fingers scrabbled uselessly at the golden serpent's head for a moment until he got it to turn, and he half-stepped, half-fell into a candle-lit room. There was a bed there, with sheets the color of dried blood and a plump-looking pillow. He unceremoniously let the moaning lump slide off his back to huddle on the sheets.

Fumbling with his robes, he managed to find his wand stashed in his pocket and drew it. But his mind was a white blank – he could not recall any spell for the life of him. Bits of phrases and strange words flitted through his mind, allowing themselves to be glimpsed but keeping maddeningly out of grasping range.

Uttering an oath, he cast aside his wand just as his bleary eyes alighted upon a decanter of brandy and a flask of water sitting on a polished dresser, complete with two sparkling glasses. He shuffled around the bed to the dresser, reaching for the water first. With shaking hands he poured half the flask's contents into one of the glasses, splashing most of the other half on himself.

He faced the bed again, where the mound of robes had not moved. He extended pale, trembling fingers and roughly shook it.

"Get up," he said in a hoarse whisper. "Get up – drink this – get _up_ – " He tugged the hood off to reveal pale, pointed features – a white face that stood out in stark contrast with the black robes. Closed eyelids fluttered slightly beneath a tangle of white-blonde hair. A trail of dried blood snaked down from the corner of a mouth that grimaced in pain.

He coaxed the water, dribble by dribble, past thin lips that moved to form inarticulate words until the glass was empty. Satisfied, he let the head loll back on the soft pillow and turned back to the dresser. He grasped the decanter of brandy and tipped it into the other glass, watching the reddish liquid slosh around as it filled to the brim.

Gripping the glass firmly, he tilted his head back and drained it, setting it down with a thump and reveling in the feel of the fiery drink burning its way down his throat. He poured another brimful and this time took a small sip.

Blowing out a gust of air, he leaned back against the dresser to inspect the room. In addition to the bed and the dresser, there was a desk accompanied by a wooden chair beside him and a nightstand on the opposite side of the bed. Off to his left was a fireplace with a pile of wood stacked behind a grate that shined in the candlelight. The marble mantelpiece was bare.

Beyond the bed, pushed against the far wall, was a low table resembling a vanity or a dressing table with a large, rectangular mirror hanging above it, its frame gilded in silver and gold.

Only half of his cloaked form was visible in the mirror, and he took another sip of brandy before making his way around the bed to approach it.

Setting his glass down upon the table, he regarded the black specter-like form in the mirror for a moment. Then, he reached up a hand, no longer shaking, to slide his hood back.

His eyes narrowed as he studied the dour man staring impassively back. Lank, greasy hair framed a sallow face. A thin mouth quirked beneath the shadow of a large, hooked nose. Bloody scratches scored his right cheek, while his left sported a smear of dirt. Dull black eyes bristled at its twin, and suddenly, it all came crashing back…

The skull, the screams. The plea, the curse. A purple-robed man flying through the air, like a rag doll cast away by a disinterested child. Defying gravity just for a moment, just before plummeting, inevitably, toward the unrelenting ground. The flight, the burning hatred. The fear, the rage. A black-haired boy sprinting through corridors, leaping down stairs, passing great oaken doors out into a darkened night, bent on one thing, and one thing only – _revenge._

The attacks, the shouts, the parries, the fire, the accusations, the inhuman pain –

_COWARD!_

And that he was. He was a coward, a foolish, filthy coward, and also a hero, a steadfast, stubborn hero, but all for the wrong reasons, all branded by the wrong people…

_The greatest deeds are often those that go by unnoticed, unrecognized, and unseen for their true worth. But they are done and they are there, and lauded or not, the doer knows the righteousness of the doing – and that, truly, is enough._

A softly intoned plea to do what was needed, to do what was asked, to do what was impossible.

A blink, a curse, a flash.

He glared at his reflection: the eyes that had beheld the old man, the mouth that had uttered the final spell, the cunning mind that had, for once, failed to find a satisfying answer.

And the hands – those pale hands stained with invisible guilt – hands that had raised a wand and pointed it at a heart that had given nothing but love, a heart that had seen an impossible good masked by an impossible evil.

He saw the ancient wizard fall again, saw the unreadable expression in those hatefully calm eyes, saw the dark and weary lines of that weathered face smooth over in peace and acceptance.

Hands clenched and shook with the force of uncontrollable fury, and with one impulsive movement, he drew his fist back and smashed it into the mirror.

His reflection shattered, and he watched his face splinter as a shower of glinting shards fell like a mystical rain upon the table.

* * *

Up Next: The Dursleys hear a supposedly terrible bit of news, Petunia does an extraordinary thing, and Harry learns that Dumbledore was right. 

Don't forget to review! We've already gotten a couple chapters typed out, so check back in a couple days for chapter one. :)


	2. In Loving Memory

Not all at once, now. We're dying from the enthusiasm.

* * *

**In Loving Memory -**_ "It is easy, frighteningly easy, to dislike someone you love."_

Petunia Dursley awoke early.

It was part of a routine she had begun early in her childhood, mostly because she enjoyed the fresh solace of the early hours. She needed no alarm – when the birds made their usual racket about dawn, she slowly opened her eyes as she lay in bed and listened to the cacophonous trills and squawks accompanied by Vernon's rhythmic snores. But before the birds could become too irritating, she quietly slipped from under the covers – carefully, so as not to disturb Vernon – and changed out of her nightdress.

She briskly descended the stairs, humming tunelessly, and headed straight for her kitchen, where she soon set about preparing breakfast. Sunlight streamed in through the open window, pooling in puddles of molten gold on the countertop and assuring her that this was going to be yet another perfect, happy, _ordinary _summer morning.

It wasn't until she started cracking eggs into a hot pan that she realized what day it was.

The tuneless hum that had been on her lips dropped dead. Slowly, she turned to glance at the calendar – and sure enough, much to her dismay, it was _the day._

As she turned back to the stove with a huff, heavy footsteps stumped down the stairs and Vernon entered the kitchen, looking cheery in his fading Grunnings promotional t-shirt and worn trousers. He pecked her on the cheek as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "Good morning, dear."

"Morning, Vernon. Is Dudders up yet?" she asked as she laid some sausages sizzling.

"Sleeping like a log and snoring loud as a foghorn," Vernon chuckled as he sat down at the table, reaching for the newspaper. "You know, dear, I was just thinking – we should invite the Polkisses over for tea today, they've been saying Piers was keen on seeing Dudders about something or other, and I could do with a little chat with Pete about the new Chancellor of the Exchequer. I don't approve much of his shenanigans with the Americans these days…"

"We can't," Petunia said testily.

"Why, have we got something planned?"

"Vernon, it's _the day._"

He looked at her over his newspaper with an almighty frown. "Already?"

She nodded at the calendar. "Unfortunately. I thought we'd have a bit more time, but…"

Vernon heaved a gusty sigh and took a large gulp of coffee. "I don't see why we have to go pick him up," he grumped. "Can't he use his ruddy…_thing _and, I don't know, fly here?"

"What, and have the neighbors see the boy zooming in through our window?" Petunia snapped. "I think not."

Vernon gave his newspaper an irritable shake, considering it. "I suppose not," he grunted. "But at least it's the last ruddy time he'll set foot in this house, and then he can go get himself killed by that madman he says is after him…"

Petunia had been about to say something, but the words fled her mind as Vernon's words registered. She clamped her mouth shut and pursed her lips as she turned her attention back to her spotless stove. It was quiet for a moment, with only the occasional rustle of the newspaper and crackle of the pan to punctuate the silence. A sense of panic filled Petunia as she turned the sausages, determined not to look back at Vernon, because an alien emotion that had quite suddenly – and rudely – invaded her wholly ordinary life seemed to be growing tenfold within her with every passing second.

_You have never treated Harry as a son._

Sixteen years, and she'd never given it a thought. What had he ever done to deserve the same treatment as Dudders? He was a despicable, ungrateful miscreant with that – that _thing _in his blood.

_He has known nothing but neglect and often cruelty at your hands._

And should she have shown him anything else? He was the embodiment of everything she had turned away from twenty-six years ago. He was everything she detested because he was everything she was not. And before – _long _before – it had been something to envy.

She and Vernon had vowed to squash it out of him, but it was like trying to squeeze the sap out of a tree with bare hands.

_The best that can be said is that he has at least escaped the appalling damage you have inflicted upon the unfortunate boy sitting between you._

It made her indignant, of course – she had never given her son anything but the best. And yet, perhaps…perhaps they had spoiled him a _bit. _Compared to the boy, Dudley was – well, _immature. _Looking back on the years, it shocked her to see how much the boy had grown. He seemed almost an adult, really, and nothing like a real teenager should have been. No loud music, no electronic obsessions, no garish clothing, no carefree laughing – although of course she would have been offended if he'd gone around her house looking happy. He didn't belong here – he was un-Dursleyish, inhuman, and abnormal, and her job was to make that clear to him.

Right?

The strident sound of the doorbell sliced through Petunia's tumultuous thoughts and she nearly jerked the pan off the stove. Vernon looked up, frowning again. "Who the blazes – ah, no, it might be Mr. Manning, he said he'd drop…"

His voice faded as he strode over to the door, and she heard the loud creak of it swinging open. There was a pause, then a loud throat-clearing from Vernon that could only be a foreboding sign. "Ah, Mrs. Figg…what brings you here?"

Petunia froze with a plate of eggs and sausages in her hand.

"I need to see your wife, Mr. Dursley." The wheezy voice of the boy's old babysitter came drifting into the kitchen, with a tense and demanding tone to it that Petunia had never heard before.

"And may I ask what is so urgent that you come calling so early?" Vernon asked with a restrained kind of politeness that suggested he did not appreciate batty neighbors appearing on his doorstep at seven in the morning.

"You can ask, Mr. Dursley, but I'm sure you wouldn't like the answer," Mrs. Figg said curtly. "Now, is Mrs. Dursley in?"

Petunia was jolted out of her frozen state. She bustled out of the kitchen, setting the plate down on the table and wiping her hands on her apron. "Hello, Mrs. Figg," she said as pleasantly as she could. _'I'm sure you wouldn't like the answer' _didn't seem to be an auspicious statement coming from an old cat-loving lady.

"Ah, Mrs. Dursley," Mrs. Figg said, peering around Vernon. Petunia was surprised to see her normally fluttery disposition gone, replaced by a stern demeanor that Petunia disliked at once. Vernon reluctantly stepped aside to let the woman in and closed the door behind her.

"Have a seat," Petunia said through pursed lips, indicating a chair at the table. Mrs. Figg obliged, her hands fidgeting in her lap. "You wanted to see me?" Petunia prompted, when Mrs. Figg didn't speak.

The old lady closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm afraid I am the bearer of terrible news," she said slowly, as if each word caused her terrible pain. Petunia squirmed. Mrs. Figg shuddered. "Dumbledore…is dead."

The words didn't register for a moment.

"Who's dead?" Vernon asked loudly.

_Dumbledore. _"How do _you_ know?" Petunia demanded, ignoring Vernon. "How do you know that – that man?"

"I'm a Squib," Mrs. Figg said tersely. "I have connections."

"Squid?" Vernon spluttered. "What – "

But Petunia was hearing a lost voice, a hated voice, echoing in her head – _Squibs, they're wizards and witches born to wizarding parents that can't do magic. Old Filch at Hogwarts, he's one of them, and real bitter he is about it, too…_

"A Squib," Petunia repeated. "You can't do magic."

Vernon stared at her, aghast. For once, Petunia didn't - couldn't - care.

Mrs. Figg gave her a thin smile, as if the subject were too painful to discuss.

"You – you're one of _them?_" Vernon asked her incredulously. "And you – we let – " Petunia knew he was thinking of all those times they had sent the boy to her place, and she was a _Squib_…they had tried so hard to squash it out of him…

"That's not the point!" Mrs. Figg said furiously, her eyes snapping. "_Dumbledore is dead!_"

"Dumbledore? You're – it's that man, isn't it?" Vernon turned to Petunia. "That crackpot old man that came last year, and – "

"Albus Dumbledore is no crackpot!" Mrs. Figg screeched, looking as though she would like nothing better than to take a swing at Vernon with her stringy handbag.

_Dead?_

_Professor Dumbledore…oh, Petunia, he's the most brilliant wizard in history! Even You-Know-Who's afraid of him, that's how powerful he is. But you wouldn't think it of him, he's like a skinny Father Christmas, always smiling and saying the strangest things…_

"He can't be," Petunia said defiantly.

Mrs. Figg smiled a sad, little smile, as if she understood her denial. "I'm afraid so, dear."

"But he's the – the most…"

_Lord Voldemort. He's back._

"Yes, quite so. We're all in grave danger," Mrs. Figg went on, looking slightly teary-eyed, "especially Harry." Vernon's eyes looked fit to pop. "Dumbledore loved that poor boy," she said woefully. "I imagine it struck him terribly hard… But I'm here to remind you of your promise."

"Promise?"

"To keep him until he comes of age and not send him out like a pile of bat droppings," Mrs. Figg said severely. "Just because Dumbledore's gone… People will know if you do, and they won't like it one bit." Petunia half-expected her to wag her finger under their noses. "You can do whatever you like after his seventeenth birthday, I daresay they'll send someone along to pick him up…"

She sighed then, and got up. "That's what I came to tell you." Petunia stood up as well, and led her to the door. Mrs. Figg kept talking. "I do hope you realize the gravity of this situation. Dumbledore was the one man You-Know-Who feared, and now that he's gone…"

Petunia nodded stiffly and bid Mrs. Figg goodbye. And although the whole of her being really did understand the dreadfulness of what she'd just heard, she couldn't stop a tiny voice inside her head saying wistfully, _"And it was supposed to be such a nice day…"_

------

Petunia spent the rest of the morning in an unpleasantly uptight mood. More often than not, she found herself in the midst of doing things she didn't remember starting, for her mind kept straying toward absurd thoughts. She knocked over Dudders' glass of milk during breakfast, spilling it all over him, and felt Vernon's troubled gaze upon her as she wiped up the mess. She rubbed at a spot on the counter without really looking at it, and stood there scrubbing it long after it had disappeared.

"Petunia dear, maybe I should – you know, go by myself," Vernon said hesitantly as eleven o'clock approached.

She gave him an appreciative smile – he really was a caring man, despite his loud and gruff bravado. Not just anyone would offer to go to that horrid place alone. "Can you, Vernon?" she said with a sigh. "I'm feeling a bit odd, but I'm sure I'll be better soon."

"Yes, Dudders went off to see Piers and Malcolm, so why don't you go lie down for a bit?" Vernon suggested. "It's that woman, I'll bet you anything," he continued darkly. "I _knew _she was strange…" He shook his head as he headed for the door, still muttering under his breath.

Petunia let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding after she heard the door slam behind him. She stood awkwardly in the front hall for a moment, listening to Vernon revving the car and pulling out of the driveway. Shaking her head, she turned and strode toward the living room. Lying down _did _seem to be a good idea. She sank down in Vernon's armchair. It would just be for a moment…

She awoke to the sound of the front door slamming shut.

"Up to your room," Vernon growled. "Your aunt's not feeling well, and I don't want you disturbing her."

If the boy made any response, she didn't hear it. She only caught a glimpse of him as he hauled his trunk up the stairs, his face expressionless.

Vernon stomped into the living room, clucking his tongue.

"Did something happen?" she asked, standing up. "Did – did _they _say anything?"

"That old man, he must've been an important bloke," Vernon said, shaking his head. "Everyone looking like it's the end of the world. That dumpy woman, the one with all the kids, she was _crying, _she was… And I mentioned what's-his-name to the boy and he went all rigid. Didn't say a thing on the way back." He snorted. "Arrogant little berk."

_Dumbledore was the one man You-Know-Who feared, and now that's he gone…_

"Feeling any better?"

"What? Oh, yes, better…"

Vernon sat down on the sofa, propped his feet on the coffee table, and turned the television on. She tried to listen to Jim McGuffin's report on an incoming rainstorm, but the longer she stared at the weatherman's face, the blurrier it became.

_You have never treated Harry as a son. You have never…_

------

_Who cares what happens to – to wizards?_

It was a question Petunia asked herself an increasing number of times as July slowly trickled by. She'd seen neither hide nor hair of the boy since he'd come back, but she couldn't quite bring herself to be glad about it.

Even Vernon seemed rather nonplussed. "Doesn't come out of that room at all," he scowled over dinner, to which the boy had failed to appear once more. "He's cooking something up in there, and I'll eat my shoes if he isn't."

"Doesn't make a sound, either," Dudders said around a mouthful of meatloaf. "It's kinda creepy."

"Don't speak with your mouth full, popkin," Petunia admonished gently.

"Hasn't come down to eat once," Vernon continued darkly. "I suppose those ruddy _owls_ are bringing him food."

"Maybe he's planning to blow up the house," Dudders said, his eyes suddenly going wide. "Maybe – "

"Does it matter?" It had come out sharper than Petunia had meant it to, and she inwardly shrank back under Vernon and Dudders' astonished gazes. "He's not of age yet, so we don't have to worry about him blowing up the house," she sniffed. "And he'll be leaving in less than a week, so I'd rather have more pleasant conversation during dinner."

She didn't mention what she really felt – that she was still worried. Those _people _would come striding up the garden path if they knew the boy wasn't eating, voluntarily or not, and she couldn't abide that. He _was _eating, of course – she slipped food through the cat flap in his door three times a day, when Vernon and Dudders weren't looking. But what _was _he doing in his room? Holed up like a caged animal… Half the time she felt the urge to barge into his room and _demand _that he get out and act like a normal boy.

The last day of July crept closer, and Vernon took to announcing how many days there were left each morning. Petunia rather felt like strangling him.

------

July thirty-first finally arrived with a mighty bang of thunder and a torrential downpour. Much to her chagrin, Petunia's first thought upon waking was: _It's his birthday. _She considered this fact for a moment. He was seventeen and therefore, according to _his _world, of age. It also meant that whatever thing Dumbledore had put up around the house would cease to function. It meant they, the Dursleys, would no longer have to feed him, clothe him, look at him, or put up with confounded owls every summer. She had already concocted a story to tell the neighbors – _Even St. Brutus' couldn't put up with the monster so they've sent him off for labor in Siberia… Good riddance, I'll say…_

And then Petunia traipsed downstairs to find him sitting at the table, calm as you please. She stopped in her tracks as he looked up from a note he'd been reading. What he was thinking, she could never guess, but she felt as though she were under serious scrutiny.

She thought about saying something to him – the words '_happy birthday' _hung precariously on her lips – but everything seemed inadequate for the situation, so she merely swept by him and entered the kitchen. To her horror and shock, he followed her.

She tried to ignore him as she fished out a carton of milk and bread for toast from the refrigerator, but she could feel his eyes on her.

"What do you want?" she snapped finally, whirling around to face him.

"I'm leaving today," he said simply. His voice was deeper than she remembered and his eyes, she was startled to see, looked haunted. "My friends are coming, but not until night, so you won't have to worry about people seeing them. I've told them to be careful anyway," he added dryly. "Just thought you might want to know."

He turned around and made as if to stride out of the kitchen, but paused in the doorway. "And…thanks for the food."

He disappeared up the stairs.

Petunia stared after her nephew. It was, perhaps, the most he had ever said to her of his own volition. And he – he had _thanked _her. What was the world coming to?

------

Darkness descended swiftly upon Privet Drive, and it rained on. Clouds obscured the view of bright stars she usually got through the window, while fierce bursts of lightning sporadically illuminated the black sky. To her right, Vernon was snoring loudly. After nearly twenty years' worth of snore-filled nights, the sound was comforting.

She was tired, God knew – she'd spent the better part of the day giving the house a desperate cleaning – but she couldn't bring herself to shut her eyes.

If she did… She shuddered, just thinking about it. …If she did, if she gave herself up to sleep, a pair of beseeching green eyes would emerge from the darkness and plague her dreams. They stared and stared, the sharp, ghostly look in them making her want to run away. But there was nowhere to run to, because those eyes would find her, wherever she went, whatever she did…

She glanced over at the luminescent clock sitting on her nightstand. _11:42._ She'd been laying sleeplessly for nearly two hours. Petunia gave a soft sigh, quite disgusted with herself. This would never do.

And before she could change her mind, she got out of bed, tiptoed out of the room, and strode down the hallway. She reached the boy's room, not at all surprised to see a crack of light under the door. Praying that Vernon wouldn't wake up, she knocked twice.

There was a soft thud, followed by the sound of a chair being pushed back. Light footsteps approached her.

_You can still run, still run, _her mind whispered urgently. _Run!_

The door swung open and he stood in the doorway, his startlingly tall frame silhouetted by the light of the desk lamp behind him. A look of amazement flitted across his face before it smoothed over to form a mask of indifference. If she hadn't seen his initial surprise, she could have sworn that he'd been expecting her.

"Aunt Petunia," he said.

She drew a shaky breath. "Harry."

If he was surprised that she had finally called him by his name, he didn't let it show. They stood looking at each other for a moment, and it suddenly struck her how like a little boy he still looked. Except the eyes.

It was ironic, how the one thing she hated most about him was the one thing that had compelled her to take him in. _Lily's eyes._ He was, after all was said and done, her sister's son. And had she really hated Lily? In one sense, yes – she had loathed perfect, pretty Lily with her angelic face and her brilliant red hair and her confounded _magic _in the worst possible way.

_It is easy, frighteningly easy, to dislike someone you love._

_Why Lily?_ she had asked herself all throughout her childhood, watching from the side as her parents praised "amazing little Lily" and "talented little Lily" to no end. _Why Lily, and not me? _It wasn't fair that she had a castle for a school where all she learned was how to make hair turn green and vanish fingers and create vile-smelling concoctions while Petunia had to gruel through sixteen years of _normal _school memorizing equations and theories and laws.

Lily herself was no help, gushing on and on about Professor this and Professor that, showing off her wooden twig, giggling over notes brought almost daily from owls. Under the onslaught of all these bizarre things, Petunia had felt so…_ordinary._

Yet she had loved her sister. Before the confounded letter, before cloaks and cauldrons and quills, they had been friends. But as Lily receded farther and farther into a world Petunia couldn't even see, she began to resent it – the yearly trips to Diagon Alley, having to listen to tales of classes and friends, lying to classmates about her sister's whereabouts.

Then that awful boy came onto the scene, and Lily declared she was getting married. _Married!_ She was _seventeen, _for God's sake! Petunia had turned her back and said good riddance, determined to erase all connections to a world she could never be a part of.

But she cried when Lily was murdered.

For one night, and one night only, after Vernon had fallen asleep. She had wept, reading Dumbledore's letter and looking at baby Harry, with his mother's green eyes. She had hated him all the more for that constant reminder.

"Something wrong?" he asked at last.

"Where are you going?" she blurted, letting more concern slip into her voice than she'd intended.

A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes. "Do you care?"

Before, she would have bristled at the impertinently mocking undertone. Now, she could only nod stiffly.

He gazed at her for a moment, and she rather felt as if he was seeing past her skin and bones to peer at her soul. His mouth twitched, but he stepped aside so she could enter his room. She froze in astonishment when she saw that it was impeccably clean. All his possessions had been packed away, with the exception of a book on the desk and a trunk, cage, and broomstick which stood beneath the window.

"Have a seat," he said, offering her the desk chair. He sat down on the edge of his neatly made bed, whose sheets had been tucked under the mattress just the way she liked it. He hugged his knees to his chest, watching her, and the image of the little boy was reinforced.

She cautiously sat down on the proffered chair, glancing at the book. _Killing Curses: The Power Behind the Spells._ She shuddered.

Placing her hands on her knees, she took a deep breath and forced herself to meet his eyes.

"You won't be seeing me, if that's what you were wondering," he said simply, without a trace of resentment or anger. "Privet Drive is a nightmare." He gave her a wry smile. "You've done – "

"I don't hate you," she interrupted sharply.

He blinked.

"I _dislike _you," she went on. "Because – "

"Because of my mum," he supplied.

"I didn't hate her, either," she snapped.

"Right. You _disliked _her."

"And why not?" she fired back. This wasn't going the way she'd thought it would. But what exactly had she been thinking? "Tell me that."

"Were you jealous?" he asked quietly.

She didn't answer.

"That's stupid. I thought you wanted this – a normal husband, a normal son, a normal life."

She gave a harsh laugh, feeling suddenly reckless. "Normal? _Too _normal, you mean. This house is the epitome of typical and ordinary, but there's a reason behind it. Two years ago, when the dementors attacked, do you know what Dudley saw?"

He frowned. "Dudley?"

She could see the curiosity in his eyes – what could Dudley possibly have to fear in his perfect life?

"He was a wizard," she spat.

Silence filled the room. _There_, she told herself furiously. _There, I've told him._

He eyed her incredulously. _"Dudley? Was?"_

"I had it squashed out of him," she said bitterly.

"You can _do_ that?" he asked, eyes wide.

"Painfully," she said curtly. "Magic, they told me, is a part of your being. Even tampering with it, never mind destroying it, is deadly. But he _couldn't_ be," she whispered. "I had them do it. He doesn't know what they did to him, or what it was for. He just remembers the pain, the doctors. That's what he saw."

She saw it too, the madmen in green robes that called themselves Healers, taking her baby from her, her son, her _wizard _son…

The boy's disbelief was etched onto his face. "Do you – do you _really _hate magic that much?"

"It took my sister," she retorted, "and it's taking you. It wasn't taking my son, too."

"Taking me?"

"Just like Lily. You spend nearly all your time in this _world _of yours, paying no attention to _Muggles_ and thinking they're just stupid, ignorant oafs. You can't deny it. If Lily hadn't been a witch, she wouldn't have died. This Voldemort was after her because she was a _witch._"

He was clearly stunned. "How – how do you _know _all this? Dementors and Voldemort – you called yourself a _Muggle?_"

"I am, aren't I?" she said with a twisted smile. "I paid more attention to these things than I let on. And I heard Lily talking to that _boy _– "

"My dad."

She nodded. "About Voldemort. Only they called him You-Know-Who. Mass murderer, megalomaniac, powerful wizard. He was after half-bloods and Muggleborns like Lily. And from what I've heard, he's killed nearly everyone he wants to."

"Not just half-bloods and Muggles," Harry said softly, his eyes becoming distant. "It's everyone that doesn't side with him."

"But especially you."

He looked at her for a long moment, and the desire to run returned. "Which brings us back to your first question, doesn't it?" he said quietly, raising an eyebrow. "I'm going to kill him."

She stared at him. There was so much determination, so much vengeance burning in his eyes. _He's going to die,_ she thought helplessly. _Just like Vernon said… Like Lily and her silly husband, he's going to die…_ "By yourself?"

He looked as though he were going to question her sudden interest in his life, but merely sighed. "I have friends," he said shortly.

"Mrs. Figg," she said, suddenly remembering. "The Squib. She came by to tell us Dumbledore – "

He flinched, as though she'd slapped him, and swiftly stood up without looking at her. "I told you where I'm going," he said roughly, striding over to the desk and picking the book up. "You got what you wanted. Ron and Hermione are coming soon; you'd better go."

She got to her feet, bewildered at how much his coldness stung her. "Was he – "

"He was my teacher," he said tersely.

Words lodged in her throat. "I – I'm…" _I'm sorry. Sorry…_

"They'll be here any minute," he said, turning his back to her. The dismissive tone in his voice was unmistakable.

Acting purely on impulse, she stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. He tensed under her touch.

"Don't die," she whispered, swallowing audibly. "Lily – Lily won't forgive me."

And she spun on her heel and left the room.

------

Harry Potter stood unmoving long after the door had shut behind Aunt Petunia. He could still feel her hand on his shoulder, could still hear the words uttered by a soft voice that had rarely been lowered below a shout when addressing him.

_Don't die._

Was that what she had waited sixteen years to tell him? After sixteen years of abuse and rejection, she told him not to die. For what? So she could scoff at him when it was all over, call him a murderer, tell him he was worse than all the rest put together?

…But did he really think that? A hidden side of Petunia Evans Dursley had showed itself tonight, a side that cared and loved and worried about things he'd thought she'd thrown away. And Dudley – Dudley had been a _wizard?_ His hand curled into a fist around the fake Horcrux in his pocket. It was impossible. How could you take the magic out of someone?

Someone tapped on the window.

He jerked his head up to see a pair of blue eyes staring at him out of a freckled face, red hair plastered down by the rain. He hurried over to the window and yanked it open, extending a hand to help Ron Weasley climb through.

Hermione came in after him, followed by Mr. Weasley.

"Hey, mate," Ron said quietly. "Happy birthday."

"Harry," Hermione said, bestowing a damp hug on him. She gave him a sad, half-smile as she stepped back. "How've you been?"

"Fine," he shrugged. "Hi, Mr. Weasley."

"Good to see you, Harry," Mr. Weasley said. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah. My stuff's right there." Harry pointed to his things beneath the window. As Mr. Weasley turned to transport them to the Burrow, Harry gave Ron and Hermione a significant look. They nodded in return, understanding he had something to tell them.

"Let's go, shall we?" Mr. Weasley said. "Harry?"

Harry took one last look around his room before taking Mr. Weasley's extended hand. Ron took his other hand and Hermione took Ron's.

_Lily won't forgive me._

His last thought as he watched the darkness swallow the walls was that Dumbledore had been right.

* * *

Up Next: A wedding, a fight, an unexpected declaration of love, and a new leader. 

Like we said, not all at once. If y'all line up single-file now, and just click that button one by one, everything will be okay. ;)


	3. A Strange Sort of Happiness

Note: Erm...we realized that we didn't specify exactly _what _Dumbledore had been right about last chapter...and frankly, neither of us have the slightest idea. So, er, we'll just pretend it didn't happen. :)

* * *

**A Strange Sort of Happiness** – _"'If only' have to be the two saddest words in the world." – Caryo, Exile's Valor, Mercedes Lackey_

This morning, it was the silence that woke Hermione Granger from sleep. She'd already gotten used to hearing the toilet flushing and floor planks creaking at ungodly hours of the morning. The sounds of pans rattling and the person in the next bed snoring had become the soundtrack of her dreams. She'd read somewhere that those kinds of noises became the circadian rhythms that kept people's eyes closed and their breathing deep. And when it got quiet, so quiet that the absence of sound became too noisy, you awoke.

After the continuous rain of the past three days, it was the sound of raindrops _not _hitting the roof that Hermione awoke to. The pale sunlight glimmering through the window drew a contented sigh from her. Propping herself up on one elbow, she ran a hand through her thick hair, wishing – for what was nearing the hundredth time this summer – it wasn't so bushy.

On the other side of the room, Ginny was still fast asleep, sprawled across her bed in a way that apparently ran through the family. Hermione sighed again. The younger girl wasn't quite herself these days. As she participated in the various wedding preparations with her brothers, she would either be abnormally quiet or unusually chatty, using a falsely cheery voice that made Hermione cringe.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she picked up a brush from the nightstand and perfunctorily tugged it through her hair several times. Moving quietly so she didn't wake Ginny, she changed out of her pajamas and snuck out of the room.

Breakfast aromas, along with the sound of several voices, assailed her from below as the door clicked shut. It was six in the morning, and under no circumstances would all the Weasleys be downstairs that early. _It's probably the Order…_

No one seemed bothered by the unofficial switch of Order headquarters from twelve, Grimmauld Place to the Burrow. Everyone accepted it wordlessly, quietly avoiding discussion as to why. And it was just as well, Hermione thought, because she doubted she could even lay eyes on the ancient Black mansion where Sirius had spent countless hours pacing the musty corridors and the mad house-elf had prowled the shadows.

She shook her head and strode down the corridor, but instead of heading downstairs, she took the next flight of stairs going up.

The new charms the members of the Order had put on the Burrow recently made Apparition impossible, much to Fred and George's disappointment. It was fine with her, though – like flying, she had never taken a liking to it. She made her way past the fourth landing and up on to the fifth, where, as she had expected, the door of Ron's room was slightly ajar.

"…Haven't heard anything yet," she could hear Ron's voice say as she drew nearer. "Dad and Bill reckon it will, but who knows?"

She knocked lightly on the door and heard one of the boys jump to his feet.

"Hermione?" Footsteps strode toward her, and the door swung open. Ron stood before her, one hand in his pocket, while behind him Harry sat cross-legged on his bed.

"We were waiting for you," Ron informed her as he resumed his place on his own bed. Hermione closed the door and sat down with her back to it.

"I didn't think you were capable of waking up this early," Hermione said, smiling a little.

"Can too," Ron said indignantly. "I'll have you know I woke up earlier than Harry."

"By a minute," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

Hermione surreptitiously looked him over as he and Ron continued their banter. He had grown yet again over the month she hadn't seen him – he was probably taller than her by a head now. With his unruly black hair falling in his eyes and being as thin as he always was, he still looked like the little boy she'd first seen on the Hogwarts Express six years ago. _If only people could see him now, like this, _Hermione thought, suddenly feeling bitter. _They're asking a boy who's barely an adult to save their world._

"…Like you weren't afraid of being turfed out of your bed by a giant bogey," Harry was saying, making Ron's face turn red.

"What?" Hermione asked, bemused.

"Nothing," Ron said quickly, and Harry gave him a satisfied grin.

She shook her head. "So how've you been?"

Harry shrugged, his grin gone. "Okay."

"How were the Muggles?"

His face remained expressionless. "I dunno, dancing a jig?"

"They can't have been _that _happy," Hermione said disapprovingly. "They might never see you again!"

"Like that's a real blow," Harry said dryly, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "I spoke to Uncle Vernon once, and I don't think I even _saw_ Dudley."

"What about your aunt?"

Harry seemed to stiffen. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about," he said slowly, leaning forward. "Last night, while I was waiting for you two, she came to my room. Wanted to know where I was going. She told me she didn't hate me." He sounded strangled. "Or my Mum." He seemed to be talking to himself now, lost in the memory. "She just _disliked _us, because she was _jealous _of us."

"_Jealous?_" Ron asked incredulously. "What, does she want to die or have a madman after her, too?"

"No," Harry said, frowning. "It was because we had magic – because we were part of a different world that she couldn't even see. And when she was younger, she felt like magic was _taking _my mum away from the Muggle world, and she said it was doing the same thing to me…"

Ron looked perfectly baffled, but the words struck a discordant note in Hermione's mind. Hadn't her own parents said something along those lines? _Are you going so soon? _her mum had asked when she'd told her she was leaving for the Burrow. _We hardly ever see you anymore. Your father and I…we miss you._

Now that she thought about it, she was spending more and more time in the wizarding world with each passing year. Sometimes she got so caught up with wizarding events she nearly forgot there was a Muggle world. Did her parents feel the same way as Harry's aunt had? Did they think magic was taking their daughter away from them? She immediately regretted the lie she'd told her father as she'd hugged him goodbye: _I'll be back for the holidays…_

"And she knows so much about this world," Harry went on. "She knew about Azkaban and Voldemort" – Hermione saw Ron twitch out of the corner of her eye – "and even _dementors._" He suddenly dropped his voice to a whisper. "Remember when the dementors attacked two years ago?"

Ron and Hermione nodded; neither would forget Harry's fit of rage after he'd been brought to twelve, Grimmauld Place that summer.

"Aunt Petunia told me what Dudley saw – his worst memory. It was – I dunno, some kind of operation, because he'd been – _Dudley was a wizard._"

Ron's jaw dropped. "Are you mental?" he exclaimed. "Your cousin – a _wizard?_"

Harry nodded grimly. "And Aunt Petunia didn't want her son being like my mum or me" – his smile was twisted – "so she decided to take the magic out of him."

"No!" Hermione gasped as a horrified Ron insisted, "You can't do that!"

"Apparently you can," Harry said. He glanced at Hermione, who had indeed heard of such things, but only in theory. It had something to do with destroying whatever was in a person's genetic makeup that allowed magical ability and was supposed to be extremely complicated, dangerous, and painful. "And she did. Dudley remembered the Healers and the pain of it, but not the reasons."

"So he doesn't know he was a wizard?" Ron asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

Harry shook his head. "Neither does Uncle Vernon. He'd probably jump off Buckingham Palace."

Ron snorted with laughter. "Wonder what it would've been like, your cousin being a wizard."

"They certainly wouldn't have let him play with me," Harry said wryly. "What with a mass murderer wanting my head on a plate and all."

"She knows about Voldemort too?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah. Right before she left, she – she told me not to die."

Ron made an exasperated noise.

Harry shrugged. "So…how've you two been?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look, and Ron launched into an explanation of the wedding craze Mrs. Weasley had fallen into. Hermione made sure she nodded and grinned and rolled her eyes at the right moments, but her mind kept wandering back to Harry and Ron's previous conversation. Their topic of discussion was obvious, as it was one of the few things currently being hotly debated worldwide – Hogwarts.

_I'm not coming back even if it does reopen…_

Deep inside, she knew he was being stupid. But then again, she hadn't been to sensible either, that day under the beech tree.

_"You said to us once before that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we?"_

Of course she'd had time. Six years – who couldn't figure out something so simple as this in six years? It was the first thing she'd learned about raven-haired, lightning-scarred, ill-fated Harry Potter; he was the Chosen One, the One and Only. He was going to fight You-Know-Who, like it or not. When she'd first read about him, the summer before first year had begun, she'd imagined him as a sturdy but agile, handsome but modest, and serious but friendly boy, like those heroes in fantasy books. (Well, didn't all 11-year-old girls dream?) He was going to be You-Know-Who's worst nightmare. She'd even given him a nickname: Banewreaker. He would right all of You-Know-Who's wrongs and heal nearly five decades' worth of horror and cruelty. But never in her wildest dreams would she have thought of being his _friend._ She would have laughed until she was blue in the face if someone had told her the only way Harry Potter could get through school was by copying all her homework. She would have wet her pants if she knew his best friend would be a gangly, too-tall redhead with a surplus of freckles. And she would have bet her life that, six years later, she'd never be in such a sticky, wretched situation.

Oh yes, she'd had time. All those years, all those moments, all those memories, arguments, jokes, scares, and near-death experiences – if she could live through that, she could live through _anything._ And since (and this was prat-like-Ron-ish that it _scared _her) he was her best friend and she loved him, she would go far beyond everything she'd ever scoffed at if that was what it took to help him.

But that – that was _then_. That was when she hadn't been thinking straight, caught up in the anguish and distress of mourning. She still wanted to _help _him, of course, but one thing was painstakingly clear: Harry Potter had _no _idea what he was doing. He didn't even have a _plan._ He wanted to go to Godric's Hollow – and then what? How would he find the Horcruxes? Not even that – how would he travel? What would he eat? Where would he sleep? What about the _little _things?

_That's the problem with boys, _Hermione thought irritably. _They don't think for themselves._ There was only one sensible course of action – return to Hogwarts. There he would be relatively safe and under the watchful eyes of the teachers, and the school could provide information and clues about the Horcruxes.

The question was, how to convince him?

* * *

Harry found himself caught up in a whirlwind of activity over the next few days and managed to become an obstacle more than anything else. When she wasn't cooking, Mrs. Weasley was rushing around with a perpetual frown on her face, ready to go into hysterics every five minutes. Between his work at the Ministry and keeping his wife in a reasonably calm state, Mr. Weasley looked exhausted as he pored over minute details like the colors of napkins and possible arrangements of flowers with his eldest son, who looked equally fatigued. 

"At least house-elves get paid," Ron grumbled as he sat at the kitchen table with Harry and Hermione, recounting the expected number of people so he could tell Fred, George, and Charlie, who were in charge of setting up the backyard.

"This isn't _nearly _as crazy as planning a Muggle wedding," Hermione said, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear as she squinted at a response to an invitation. "There aren't any caterers to call, flowers to order, reservations to make… _What _is this supposed to say? I can't – "

"If it's got really loopy writing and the _i'_s are dotted with little circles, it's from Auntie Muriel, and she's definitely coming," said a new voice that to Harry was painfully familiar.

He, Ron, and Hermione turned to the doorway to see Ginny walk in carrying a small pile of letters. Harry tensed at the sight of her, and what he'd said at the funeral came rushing back as their eyes met briefly. He resisted the urge to leap up from his stool and hug her (or maybe kiss her) and bit his tongue so he wouldn't blurt anything stupid. It was the first time he'd properly seen her since he'd arrived at the Burrow; he wasn't quite sure if she was avoiding him or if he was unconsciously avoiding her, but he managed to give her a weak smile.

She gave him a strained smile back, and he felt her hesitate slightly as she passed him to dump the letters in front of Hermione. He saw a look pass between the two girls as Ginny sat down beside her.

"I thought your mum said it was going to be a _small _wedding," Hermione said exasperatedly as she sifted through the pile in dismay. "Weasley, Weasley, Weasley…how many relatives do you have?"

"Too many," Ron said with a grimace. "And Mum didn't even invite half of them."

"I don't think most of them will come, anyway," Ginny said, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she reached for a letter. Harry told himself not to stare. "They live so far away and we haven't seen them in at least ten years, so the invitations were just a formality."

"But Great-Aunt Tessie'll be here," Ron said in a resigned tone. "Last time I saw her she beat Fred and George with her cane because they put gnomes in Percy's socks."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Typical. Anyway, I need a break," she said, pushing her chair back. "I think I'll write my mum and dad, I told them I would. Ron, I need to borrow one of your quills."

"Somewhere in my bag," Ron said. "Bugger, I've lost count _again…_"

"_Ron,_" Hermione said, glaring at him fiercely. "Your bag is a _mess, _I'll never find it!"

Ron looked up and caught her meaningful glance at Harry. "Right. Here, I'll go with you." He stood up and led the way out of the kitchen. Hermione patted Ginny's shoulder as she followed him.

_Damn,_ Harry thought. _Something to say, find something to say, say something quick…_

"Er, how've you been?" he asked, grabbing the letter Hermione had discarded and examining it with interest.

"Okay," Ginny said, sounding as awkward as he felt. "You?"

"Not bad," he said, hating the discomfiture between them. There was a long pause, during which the spidery black words on the parchment slipped through Harry's brain without leaving the slightest trace of meaning behind, until finally he threw the letter down in frustration and took a deep breath. "Ginny, listen – "

She interrupted him, very quietly but in a tone that clearly indicated she was her mother's daughter. "I know," she said simply. "We've got to put ourselves on hold." One side of her mouth quirked up in a rueful smile. "You've told me; you've given more than enough good, sensible reasons, one of which _is _saving the world from a madman…and the last thing you need on your mind is silly teenage romance."

The plain acceptance in her voice brought so much relief, yet so much guilt. _But at least there's no misunderstanding…_ He had secretly been dreading some sort of breakdown or histrionics, though he knew Ginny wasn't the type to sulk. He sighed inwardly – he always made things complicated. It was just how he was; he'd been like that for six years now, and he still wasn't used to it.

He shook his head and opened his mouth to say something –

"I know," she said again, firmly. "I can wait."

He gave her a genuine smile, contemplating whether or not to pat her arm, or hug her, or –

An impish grin suddenly graced her lips. "Wonder what Ron and Hermione are doing up there," she said mischievously, her eyes sparkling. "They're taking an awfully long time to get a quill."

Harry gave a snort of laughter. Half of him was taken aback at the sudden change of topic, and the other half wanted to forget everything and jump up and dance on the table. "They are, aren't they?" he sniggered, feeling ridiculously light-hearted.

"Well, they're certainly not leaving us to do all the work," Ginny said impertinently, scooping up the letters and striding out of the kitchen toward the stairs.

Harry fleetingly considered warning Ron and Hermione before Ginny burst in on them, but decided his friends' expressions would be worth it as he hurried after Ginny.

* * *

The Delacours arrived at the Burrow two days before the wedding, making the resident count shoot up to fifteen. Fred and George were sent to sleep at the flat above their shop so Mr. and Mrs. Delacour could take their room, while Gabrielle, who blushed fiercely when Harry said hello to her, squeezed in with Ginny and Hermione. 

Harry noticed that Ron didn't goggle at Fleur as much when she smiled at him, but whether it was because he had finally realized she was unattainable or because Bill, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley were _right there,_ Harry couldn't tell.

Things became rather hectic as introductions were made, dresses and dress robes were tried on (the Delacours had been in charge of apparel, much to Ron's delight), and last minute details were changed – and confirmed – and changed again. Harry enjoyed the good-natured laughter as the Weasleys tried to figure out what the Delacours were saying through their thick accents and Gabrielle's witty rejoinders whenever the twins tried to tease her.

The wedding had good timing; the excitement and demands of such an event had the advantage of taking people's minds off other, darker things. Harry himself sometimes forgot about what lay ahead of him and felt like his life was, for once, normal.

He awoke early the morning of the wedding and wasn't at all surprised to hear footsteps running about and voices coming from below. With a heady sense of anticipation building up inside him, he bounded out of his bed and roughly shook Ron awake. "C'mon, mate, your brother's getting married!"

"Bloody brilliant," Ron grumbled, burying his face in his pillow. His head shot up a moment later, eyes wide. "Bloody _Merlin, _my brother's getting married!"

Harry grinned. "We said we'd help set up, remember?"

They quickly changed out of their pajamas and thundered down the stairs to the first landing. Wonderful smells drifted out of the kitchen where Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Delacour were preparing food for the reception. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Delacour were sitting on the couch in the living room, laughing about something, and all four girls were nowhere in sight.

"Good morning, dears," Mrs. Weasley said, emerging from the kitchen looking breathless. "The boys are out in the backyard."

Harry followed Ron out the back door where he saw Charlie, Fred, and George conjuring chairs and tables in the field past the fence they used to bung gnomes over. The twins hailed them and promptly put them to work arranging the chairs in rows.

When they trooped back in, sweaty and hungry, they were served a cursory breakfast and then sent upstairs to shower and change. Harry and Ron flipped a Chocolate Frog card to see who got to shower first, and Ron crowed in triumph as Daisy Dodderidge beamed up at them from Ron's desk.

"Hurry up," Harry growled after him as he dashed out of the door and nearly crashed into Hermione and Ginny, who had just appeared in the doorway.

"Take your clothes, you prat!" Ginny called after him, holding out his freshly laundered blue robes. Ron came sprinting back, grabbed them from her, and shot off again. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"These are yours," Hermione said to Harry, setting his neatly folded robes on his bed. "See you later." She and Ginny waved as they turned and left, giggling as they went.

Ron returned a good ten minutes later, his face red. "Do I look okay?" he asked, inspecting himself with a frown.

"You look fine," Harry laughed, picking up his own set of robes. "Hermione'll love it," he added, punching Ron's arm as he headed for the bathroom.

Leaving his clothes on a shelf, he stepped into the shower, doused himself with a spray of cold water, scrubbed at his hair, and quickly stepped out again. Grabbing a towel that was beside his clothes, he dried off and slipped into his dress robes. As he adjusted his collar in front of the mirror, it looked at him, wolf-whistled, and turned a radiant pink hue. Harry stared at it, trying to work out if it was really blushing, and then put it out of his mind as he tried to tame his hair. As it was still wet, he had a modicum of success pushing it flat.

Sighing at his reflection, he hurried back out to the hallway, where Ron was waiting impatiently at the head of the stairs.

"Took you long enough," he grumped, shifting from foot to foot.

"Finished faster than you," Harry countered.

Ron didn't seem to hear – he kept glancing downstairs and tugging at his collar. "Well, this is it."

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

"Let's go."

------

Bill Weasley might have been more nervous than in that incident with fifteen mismanaged German goblins' accounts and completely bogged down with thoughts of Fleur and his wedding night and how to deal with various relatives and the fact that he wouldn't be a free man in a few hours, but he still had time to see two people who weren't as happy as they should have been.

His youngest brother was loitering around the tables arranged for the buffet, looking slightly droopy as he watched the twins zoom around the field allegedly entertaining guests as they caused as much confusion as possible. Harry was sitting in a chair beside him, trying to look cheerful and excited, but there was no mistaking the preoccupation and the longing in his eyes, suggesting there was more on his mind concerning a certain redhead and himself that involved being less than fifteen feet from each other.

Charlie was teasing said redhead as he helped her over the fence, and for a moment Bill couldn't quite believe that she was his sister – she looked more like an adult than ever and glowed in her pale yellow dress robes. He caught the covert look she shot at Harry, and when their eyes met, Bill rather felt as if they were – and would be – really only aware of each other.

Ron leaned down and said something to Harry, who nodded grimly. Both suddenly looked more miserable than anyone should have been allowed to at a wedding. But then Hermione came floating out of the house, and Ron's eyes – well, he hoped that despite his scarred face, Fleur would be able to see him looking like that when she came down the aisle. Bill grinned to himself as Harry nudged Ron in the ribs to get him to stop staring.

Mum, between scolding the twins and tying up last minute details, was positively flustered and stopped every few seconds to look at Bill admiringly or pat him on the shoulder or adjust his robes. Dad drifted along behind her, watching his children with a carefree happiness that Bill hasn't seen in years. But then Mr. Delacour was next to him, telling him everything was just about set to start and that – sweet Merlin! – he'd be going in to see if Fleur was ready to be escorted down. For the eighth time in the past ten minutes, he told himself that fainting would not be very appropriate.

------

Tonks sat at the end of the last row of chairs, absently checking to see that the wand she had stashed in the pocket of her dress robes was still there.

As one of the three trusted Aurors in the Order (two, really, but no one cared that Mad-Eye was retired – he had the right mentality), she had been given guard duty during the wedding – essentially, to make sure no one tried to blow the place up or pick off a few innocent civilians before disappearing in a daring hit-and-run tactic.

She honestly didn't think that any Death Eater would be stupid enough to target a wedding that involved nearly half the Order, but older folks these days got hyped up for no reason. Besides, she had a rather impressive reputation to maintain as an Auror who allowed nothing to go unnoticed, even if she was a bit clueless in the everyday.

Of course, even the most unreliable Auror would have seen that there were two people not paying attention to what the officiating wizard was saying up front. Well four, actually, if you counted Ron and Hermione, the former of which wasn't even pretending to appear attentive, but Tonks doubted he'd be noticed since everyone else was gazing with tear-filled eyes at a glowing Fleur and Bill, whose scars only made him look more dashing. Tonks could barely contain her laughter as Hermione acted as though the blush on her cheeks wasn't really there and fidgeted under Ron's stare – he'd watched her as she'd escorted Fleur down the aisle with Ginny, watched her as she stood waiting for the other attendants to take their places, looked away for a half a minute as Mr. Delacour handed his daughter to Bill, and now that the blissful couple was standing hand in hand, he was watching her again.

But at least Harry and Ginny were _trying_ to focus on the stars of the joyous occasion, even though everyone knew they could see no one but each other. And though Merlin knew she was tired of this war already, she couldn't help but feel that the Order wasn't doing enough and that the world was expecting too much of a boy whose dearest wish was probably just to snog his girlfriend senseless.

A little sob jerked her thoughts back to the wedding, and she saw Molly in the front row rendering her kerchief inadequate – she'd need a tub to hold the tears she was crying as Bill and Fleur exchanged their vows – and felt a bit guilty that she hadn't been paying attention.

Out the corner of her eye she saw Mad-Eye shake his head and suppress the urge to laugh again – doubtless he _wanted _some sort of attack so he could brush aside this "sentimental rubbish."

Grinning to herself, she glanced at the audience again, just to satisfy her duties. None of the guests looked like they had conspicuously evil intentions, so she surreptitiously allowed her gaze to settle on the front row, where a certain brown-haired (but grayer than ever, she was pained to see) man was listening intently to the proceedings.

------

Great-Auntie Muriel, who could scarcely stand up without her cane and hadn't danced in more years than she cared to remember, wasn't so old that she couldn't see that there were two girls that wanted to dance with two obviously ignorant boys. The first one was one of her own great-grandsons – she thought his name might be Ronald, but there were so many she could never tell – and he was sitting at a table with Potter, who was the spitting image of his great-grandfather on his father's side; the girl with an abnormal amount of hair that Ronald had been staring at during the entire wedding; and her great-niece, who even Muriel had to admit looked quite pretty and not so much like a little girl anymore.

Ronald was saying something loudly and gesturing extravagantly as he ate too much cake – standard adolescent behavior – and Muriel cringed when he knocked over a glass of firewhiskey. But Miss Hair cleaned the mess up with a quick, smooth gesture, and Muriel had no doubt that she was proper and respectable, like all young women should be.

But then the moment was gone, and the girl went back to glancing wistfully at the dance floor with Ginevra, where William was spinning his laughing bride – the one she had lent her goblin-made tiara to; it did look quite nice with her hair – around in circles, and where Frederick and George were romping about in a most undignified manner. Ronald was perfectly ignorant, of course, just like his father, although there was a longing in Potter's eyes as he shot what he probably thought were surreptitious looks at her great-niece.

Muriel was about to take action – she couldn't stand insensitive boys – when William's sister-in-law darted up to the table with what looked to be every ounce of courage she could muster and ask something of Potter. A grin lit up Ronald's face and he nudged Potter in the ribs as the little girl turned flaming red, but there was a most curious expression on Ginevra's face as Potter stood up and made his way to the dance floor.

_Serves her right,_ Muriel thought exasperatedly as Miss Hair leaned over and whispered something in Ginevra's ear. _If she wanted to dance with him, she should have asked!_

But Ronald was still spouting nonsense, and Muriel couldn't take it anymore. She called his name – he looked up, grimaced, and rolled his eyes at Miss Hair as he reluctantly stood up. She smirked – she wasn't as blind as he thought she was – and gave him a talking to at the end of which he was looking ludicrously sulky. She jabbed her cane in his chest – not hard enough to hurt, although she _did _wish he were more stockier and not so ridiculously tall – and demanded that he ask the nice young lady to dance, because despite all the hair, she seemed to be very pleasant. He gaped for a moment, until she said sharply, "Close your mouth, Ronald. Are you trying to catch flies? We are not a frog."

He protested, as was expected, but she gave him the look she'd been perfecting for over a century, and he hung his head and shuffled back to the table like a man headed to his execution. The invitation was clumsy, she could tell, but the light in the girl's eyes was worth all the trouble. Muriel nodded approvingly as they moved to the dance floor, holding hands, but now Ginevra was by herself, looking as though she'd like to punch something – she'd heard about that particular temper.

She would have to do something, although she couldn't very well call Potter over and tell him off like her great-nephew. Perhaps –

_BOOM._

------

Harry's hand dove into his pocket for his wand as the explosion rocked the field, nearly knocking him off his feet. Gabrielle screamed, along with several others, but Harry was already looking around for Ginny. Several voices were yelling for calm, but a flash of green light lit up the darkening sky and things became even more chaotic. Fleur rushed over to him with her parents right on her heels, and Gabrielle ran to them spouting rapid French.

He'd felt that something hadn't been quite right since the beginning of the reception, and his suspicion had only increased when he saw Tonks disappearing around the Burrow.

Another flash of light soared over the roof of the house, and curses and shouts could be heard over the screams. Kingsley and Lupin bounded toward the fence as more people drew their wands. Mr. Weasley and Bill were attempting to restore order, but to no avail; now three dark figures ran out from behind the Burrow and came straight towards the field with two other figures in hot pursuit.

"Everyone get down!" somebody roared, and there was another earsplitting bang and suddenly Harry was enveloped in an enormous cloud of dust and darkness.

_I've got to find Ginny! "Lumos!" _he shouted, but the light flaring from the tip of his wand only penetrated a few inches of the fog, and he started to run blindly, knocking over chairs as he went.

"Ron!" he bellowed. "Hermione! Ginny!"

"Down!" a voice was yelling, "stay down, get your wands out!" Something blunt streaked past Harry's cheek and he gritted his teeth in pain, but kept going – someone suddenly hurtled into him and he went flying; there was an angry snarl as Harry's assailant dug fingers painfully into his shoulder –

"_Petrificus Totalus!"_

Harry felt the man collapse against him, and he pushed the Death Eater off with a grunt just as a scarred, murderous face swam into view out of the haze.

"Bill!"

"Harry, get – "

Then the smoke disappeared and he could see – he was at the edge of the field – a jet of green light flew his way and he ducked and ran, headfirst, back into the fray. There was no sign of Ginny, no sign of Ron or Hermione – Tonks was locked in combat with a skull-masked Death Eater in front of him, while another jumped one of the broken tables and raised his wand at her.

"_Avada – "_

Harry launched himself across the grass and grabbed the Death Eater around the knees, causing him to topple and his aim to go awry. Lupin tore in out of nowhere, rammed into the other Death Eater with his shoulder, and they careened away, wands flashing like swords as sparks flew. Tonks whirled around and Stunned the Death Eater Harry was struggling with.

There was no time for thanks – Harry heard a loud crash from one end, a scream from the other, and he and Tonks split up. A sudden thought occurred to him as he ran – _Snape._ Kingsley was battling a rat-faced Death Eater Harry had never seen before – the Auror stumbled over a chair and the Death Eater grinned triumphantly.

"_Stupefy!"_ Harry yelled, and the charm hit the Death Eater in the back. Kingsley scrambled out of the way as he toppled forward. Harry sprinted on, but his foot caught on something, and the next moment he was lying across someone's legs.

"Hermione! Are you – "

"Oh my God, Harry, you're all right, I couldn't find you, I don't know where Ron – Ginny – Tonks was just – watch out!"

"_Protego!"_ Harry shouted, and the silver jet of light bounced away into the night. An enormous blond man who looked vaguely familiar was standing on the podium beneath the flowered archway, sending curses flying in all directions, and Harry aimed a hex at him from the ground before springing back up. There was a howl of pain as Harry dragged Hermione to her feet.

"Tonks is fine – but Ginny – "

"Oh Harry, she and Ron – I lost them when the smoke – _Pro-!"_

She had seen the spell too late; the slash of white light shimmered as it passed through Hermione's half-formed shield and ripped a gash through her sleeve and arm. She dropped to the ground, eyes squeezed shut in pain as she clutched the arm tightly. Harry whirled around to see a Death Eater advancing on them.

"_Petrificus Totalus!"_

Before Harry had even raised his wand, an astonished look passed across the Death Eater's face as his arms snapped to his sides and he keeled over. Ron skidded to a stop beside them with fury burning in his eyes, the sleeve of his right arm torn and bloody.

"Hermione!" he cried, kneeling down beside her. "Hermione – bloody Merlin – Harry, I can't find – "

But Harry was already sprinting away – he could think of only two things – _Snape and Ginny, Snape and Ginny –what if Snape's here – what if they've got Ginny_ –

Mad-Eye was dueling two Death Eaters at once and doing a fine job of it, his scarred face twisted in a hideous expression of glee as he doled out curses and hexes. Harry raced past him to find Lupin fighting a familiarly squat, lumpy wizard – Amycus – their wands almost a blur. Amycus flicked his arm back, apparently getting ready to perform a complex spell, but Harry yelled, _"Expelliarmus!"_ and the wand went soaring away into the night.

Lupin Stunned the disarmed man and gave Harry a quick nod of thanks. "I want you to get inside," he shouted as a jet of blue light narrowly missed their heads. "Now! Molly's gotten most of them in and the wards are up, go!" he bellowed as he dashed forward to meet a buck-toothed Death Eater – Kingsley swayed across his field of vision, battling with a pockmarked man – Harry dodged another curse –

And then he saw Ginny some twenty feet away, slowly being pushed back as she fought valiantly against two sizable Death Eaters. Blood stained the front of her robes, but whether it was hers or not, Harry couldn't tell – a third Death Eater was running to corner her against a broken stack of chairs, and Harry cursed under his breath as he tore toward them. Who were they after – her or him? Both of them?

Ginny dove out of the way as a hex was thrown at her – she retaliated with a jinx but it missed, and the Death Eater swore – the third one was closing in –

"_Impedimenta!" _Harry roared so loudly he felt his throat might tear, but the charm hit the running Death Eater square in the chest. There was a pig-like squeal of pain as he was lifted off his feet. The other two were stupid enough to both spin around to face him, and Ginny cried, _"Stupefy!" _at one while Harry yelled, _"Petrificus Totalus!"_ at the other.

And then another voice was shouting,_ "We're done! Let's go! Leave them, just leave them, go!"_

There were several loud pops as black figures here and there disappeared, and suddenly it was quiet except for the groans of the fallen. Night had descended, and beams of light were flashing around, names were being called out –

"Harry…"

Harry felt as though his heart would drown in the relief flooding it. He turned around to see Ginny dropping to her knees on the ground, and he hastened to her side.

He wrapped his arms around her trembling shoulders, and it wasn't until he let out a long, shaky breath that he realized just how terrified he'd been. "Sweet Merlin, Ginny," he breathed, "you're alive – I thought – are you hurt?" He held her at arm's length to look her over, but she shook her head numbly and swallowed hard.

"Nothing serious," she said unsteadily, brushing back strands of matted hair from her eyes. "Exhausted. Are you…?"

"I'm fine," Harry said quickly, although his hand was throbbing and his cheek felt like it was on fire. He inspected her again, and a groan came from behind them – he looked back to see the two Death Eaters facedown on the ground.

"Ron and Hermione – have you seen them?" Harry asked, glancing around as he helped Ginny to her feet. "Your mum's inside with most of the people, I dunno about your dad, but I saw Lupin and Tonks and Kingsley – "

"Ron and Hermione were over by the archway the last time I saw them, and Dad was with Bill," Ginny answered, eyeing the Death Eaters distastefully. "Did anyone get hurt? There were so many people screaming…"

Harry shook his head. "No idea."

"They-they were here for you," Ginny said quietly, shivering as she hugged herself. "I heard them yelling to each other."

"I know," Harry said. _What else could they be after? But I'm not the only one. _"And they were using – listen, Ginny," he said urgently. "I've – Snape knows. He knows we were, you know, going out, but he doesn't know we broke up."

Ginny blinked.

"He would've told Voldemort by now, right? Our secret – it's history."

Ginny gazed up at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. "So now what?" she said softly. "Are you planning to lock me up in a house like the Order did to Sirius, so you can _protect _me?" There was no mistaking the resentment, the defiance in her tone.

_People don't like being locked up! You did it to me all last summer!_

He smiled bitterly and shook his head. "Never. Besides, you wouldn't stand for it. You'd probably break out anyway, and get yourself into more danger. No, I'm just saying – I mean, if you – "

"You don't ever do things normally, do you?" Ginny said dryly.

"Well, unfortunate circumstances and all," he said. "But I…well, if you…?"

She gave him a tired, fleeting smile. "Always."

"Harry!"

Harry turned around again to see Lupin and Tonks hurrying toward them, both of them covered in blood and looking exhausted.

"Thank Merlin you're all right," Lupin said, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. Tonks hugged Ginny tightly. "Any serious injuries?"

"No," Harry shook his head. "Is anyone…?"

"No one's dead and there aren't any injuries that can't be fixed up at St. Mungo's," Tonks said grimly. "Kingsley's called in Aurors from the Ministry, he and Arthur and Bill are just rounding up the Death Eaters. _Prophet_'s going to have a field day with this," she added wryly.

"The _Prophet_ won't write anything that's not obvious," Lupin said firmly. "It's Azkaban for these damned fools and nothing else."

"Were they after anything?" Harry asked casually.

"Probably not," Tonks said slowly. "It was most likely just a hit-and-run sort of thing. I don't think they were expecting such fierce resistance."

Harry and Ginny glanced at each other.

"You two should head in, get cleaned up," Lupin sighed. "We just sent Ron and Hermione in, too – Hermione was going hysterical looking for you two."

Harry nodded wearily. He could see three figures moving about behind Tonks, dragging inert bodies across the grass in front of the archway and binding them securely with ropes.

"And Harry – you did well," Lupin said, sounding a bit awkward, as he turned to leave. "Sirius and James would've been proud."

Harry looked at him for a moment. Ginny slipped her hand in his and squeezed it lightly.

He smiled. "Thanks."

* * *

Up Next: A trip down memory lane isn't quite what Harry expected, and he walks away disappointed. 

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	4. The Only Way

Many thanks to everyone who reviewed. And if you haven't so far, we urge you to do so immediately. :)

Special thanks to **swiftykenobi** for beta-ing. You're awesome :)

* * *

**The Only Way -**_ "A sign would've been nice. Horcrux, five miles straight ahead."_

Remus sighed to himself, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the wall as bits and phrases of a fierce discussion drifted about him. Arthur and Mad-Eye had decided to call an emergency Order meeting after giving Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny a thorough inspection for injuries and sending them to their rooms with a draught of dreamless potion. Molly and Bill were reassuring the Delacours that everything was now under control and apologizing for the whole mess.

The rest of them had squeezed into the kitchen of the Burrow, where they sat around the table and grimly went over the details of the attack. Kingsley and Mad-Eye were filling Minerva and Sturgis in on what had happened; Minerva's face was ashen and Sturgis had his fists clenched in his lap.

It was painful to see just how few members the Order had left. Emmeline's murder had been a bit of a shock, but Dumbledore's death and Snape's betrayal had caught them completely unawares. Lack of numbers not withstanding, they were going to need time to cope with the loss of their most powerful member and the threat that Snape posed.

A light touch on his shoulder made Remus open his eyes, and he found himself looking into Tonks' worried gaze.

"You sure you're all right?" she asked softly.

He nodded, half-smiling. "A little bruised, but that's it. What about you?"

"All I need is a bed," she sighed. She suddenly noticed her hand was still on his shoulder; he could see a pink flush creeping up in her face despite the dirt and grime on her cheeks as she quickly removed her hand.

They were both saved from further awkwardness by the sound of footsteps on the stairs, prompting everyone's gaze to swivel toward the doorway. Molly and Bill entered a moment later, both looking exhausted.

"Are they all right?" Arthur asked, standing up to let his wife sit down. Charlie moved over so Bill could join him on the counter.

"Bit hysterical at first, but I reckon they'll be fine," Bill said heavily, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "It's a good thing they knew about the risk beforehand."

"Sorry your big day had to turn out like this," Kingsley said, his voice slightly hoarse.

Bill shook his head. "It's fine; I'm just thankful no one got seriously hurt."

"Well, I think we've learned our lesson," Mad-Eye growled, his magical eye spinning crazily in its socket. "We can't afford to stay laid back like this. Albus is gone. There's nothing we can do about that. But it's no excuse for this sort of thing. It should never have happened – or at least, gotten this far."

There was some squirming amongst the Order members that had been present at the wedding. The security measures they had enforced had not been adequate. But then again, the wedding had been a risk in the first place.

"I agree," Kingsley said. He fingered the cut on his chin as he spoke. "Dumbledore's plan was for the Order to go on even after his death. Our mission is to defeat You-Know-Who and protect Harry and help him in any way we can, not fall apart because Dumbledore's gone."

"Then the first thing we have to do is pick a new leader, isn't it?" Charlie said matter-of-factly.

They looked around at each other, unsure of what to do next. From the beginning, it had always been assumed that Dumbledore was the leader and always would be; no plans had been made regarding times of peril that Dumbledore wasn't presiding over.

"I nominate Minerva," Remus said quietly. "As Headmistress of Hogwarts and Dumbledore's second-in-command, she is most suitable for the position." He'd heard about the board of governors' decision just the day before – Hogwarts would remain open.

"Any objections?" Mad-Eye growled. "No? Minerva?"

Eyes turned to Minerva, who seemed to be fighting an inner battle as she sat stiff-backed with her hands clasped in her lap. When she finally looked up, her eyes were blazing.

"For Albus," she said, "and for Harry."

"Good, that's settled," Mad-Eye said, ever business-like. "Now, about tonight. To sum it up, a group of Death Eaters ambushed the field during the reception. Three Death Eaters were captured and about seven or eight Disapparated. No one was killed or severely injured."

"Where'd they come from?" Sturgis asked, brows furrowed. "I thought there were wards around this place."

"Only the house, not the field," Arthur said, shaking his head. "It's a decision I'm regretting." Molly put a hand on her husband's shoulder.

"There's no point in worrying about what's already happened, or what we could have done," Bill said. "We have to focus on what we're going to do _now._ The one thing we do know about this attack is that they were after Harry."

No one looked remotely surprised to hear this; in fact, Remus saw, the entire Order took it resignedly. The boy was their first priority, as it had been Dumbledore's – they could not afford to lose him, and neither could the rest of the world. Whatever they believed, whatever Muggles or the Minister or Harry himself believed, he was without a doubt the only one who could stand against Voldemort.

But that meant putting him on the line; that meant, for Remus, giving up yet another person he loved to the hands of fate. And Harry was so much more than just his best friend's son – he was the embodiment of the three people he had lived for. James was in his face, in his stance, his stubbornness. Lily was in his eyes, the green eyes James used to make up songs about as he walked through the corridors. And Sirius was in his laughter, his carefree grin. He would have liked to say that he saw a bit of himself in Harry, too; maybe his intelligence, but the other two had been smart – James and Sirius had just let their mischievous side cover it up. Not all Hogwarts students could turn themselves into Animagi.

But that was life. That was war. Letting people go and letting themselves get hurt in their own destiny, waiting on the sidelines until it was all over to pick up the pieces, to bury the bodies. No matter what anyone said, it never got easier.

"One of us should always know where he is," Sturgis said. "Not just an Auror or something; one of us. And he should be able to contact us whenever he wants, without fear of the message being intercepted or delayed."

He wanted to tell them that it wasn't right. Tagging Harry like that, having people following him around. James and Sirius would never have stood for it themselves. They had hated being watched, being protected. The one thing that had annoyed Sirius more than returning to the Black house was the fact that he had to be locked up. He'd always been restless, edgy. In the end, it had cost him his life.

"And we'll have to increase security in major areas," Kingsley said. "King's Cross, Diagon Alley, the Floo Network. Aurors can be stationed in Hogwarts, too."

It was more than a question than a statement, but as Kingsley looked to Minerva she nodded firmly. "I was just going to ask the Minister about that. Not just for Harry's protection, of course, but for the rest of the students and staff."

"I'm sure it can be done," Kingsley said, and Tonks nodded with him.

"Other suggestions?" Arthur asked.

"Well it's not really about Harry specifically," Sturgis began, hesitating a bit. Minerva nodded at him to continue. "It's – well – I mean, what about Snape?"

"What about him?" Mad-Eye snapped.

"Well, I mean, he had a lot of information, didn't he?" Sturgis said, quite taken aback at Mad-Eye's brusque tone. "Dumbledore trusted him, so he had to know a lot about the Order. Shouldn't we be doing something to prevent…"

His words trailed off as he shrugged. There were many things Snape could do to the Order with the knowledge he possessed, all of them potentially fatal.

"We've done all we _can _do," Arthur said with a sigh. "Dumbledore was our Secret Keeper, not Snape, and now that we've abandoned twelve, Grimmauld Place, he doesn't know where our new headquarters is. He may know who our members are and what our plans were, but they can always change. And now that we know he's working for the other side, he can't come back as a spy."

There was a carefully controlled bitterness in Arthur's voice that was mirrored in the faces of those listening. If there was anyone they detested more than Voldemort right now, it was Severus Snape.

But Remus was still doubtful. Could Dumbledore's judgment really have been that off? Or had the old man's instincts, for once, really failed him? It was true that Snape had been obsessed with the Dark Arts at Hogwarts and had ultimately joined Voldemort as a Death Eater, but he had returned. Dumbledore had trusted him, and he had proved useful in many situations, not least of all his brewing of the Wolfsbane Potion for Remus while he had been teaching four years ago.

But the question was: Had he really returned? Had he truly "switched sides," as Dumbledore had believed, or had he acted as a spy under the mere pretenses of turning a new leaf? There was a great amount of evidence that Snape was still loyal, and an equal amount of evidence that he was a traitor. All personal grudges aside, Remus would have liked to believe that there was a reason, a good reason, that Dumbledore had trusted Snape and died at his hands.

As new conversations broke out about Hogwarts, the Ministry, and Death Eaters, Remus sat back and watched them through detached eyes.

_If only James and Sirius hadn't made so much fun of him at Hogwarts… If only I hadn't told them to stop... If only I had known then what would happen later... If only Dumbledore hadn't been so trusting... If only Harry wasn't so like James…_ There were so many ifs, so many decisions he regretted, and absolutely nothing he could do about them.

* * *

After all the lights went out and the house had fallen silent, Ron got out of bed. He heard Harry do likewise as he edged toward the door, careful not to step on the planks that creaked. He opened the door a crack and peered out into the hallway, breathing out a sigh of relief when he saw that it was deserted. 

He slipped out with Harry behind him, and the two of them stole down the corridor. He felt slightly foolish as he crept past Mum and Dad's room like he was a thief in his own house. They tiptoed down the stairs, almost unconsciously skipping over the squeaky ones. He felt Harry hesitate at the third landing, but continued on without speaking until they reached the bottom.

There was a dim light on in the kitchen and Ron checked to see that his wand was still in his pocket before moving forward. It seemed he didn't go anywhere without it anymore.

"Ron? Harry?"

The whisper floated out into the darkness from the kitchen, and suddenly Hermione and Ginny were standing in the doorway, their figures illuminated by the light behind them.

Harry stopped dead beside him, staring at Ginny. "What – why is she here?" he demanded of Hermione, keeping his voice low.

Ginny folded her arms as Hermione gave him an only slightly apologetic look. "She knew," Hermione whispered. "I couldn't stop her."

"After all that, Harry, you were planning to leave without me?"

Ron recognized the steely edge in his sister's voice and took a small step away from Harry. It scared him when she started sounding like Mum.

Harry seemed lost for words. "I – you – "

"Save your nobility for other people, Harry, because it's wasted on me," Ginny said. "I'm going wherever you are and doing whatever you're doing until this thing is over, and you can't stop me."

"You don't understand," he said wearily – pleadingly – shaking his head. "We're not going back to Hogwarts. No one will be with us to protect you, no teachers, no Aurors, no wards, not your mum, your dad, your brothers. Just us and your wand between you and Voldemort. There's no turning back. Do you want that? Do you want to give up everything you have here for that?"

"No," she said quietly. "Not for that. For you."

It was silent for a moment as Harry looked at her wordlessly, a strange expression on his face. Standing next to him, Ron could almost feel the fight draining from him. Finally, Harry stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Ginny, bending his head to whisper something in her ear that made her mouth twitch.

Hermione smiled at them as they went in and sat around the table; he and Hermione on one side, Harry and Ginny on the other. A small candle burned between them, causing shadows to flicker across their faces.

"The Death Eaters today…they were after you, weren't they?" Hermione asked softly.

Harry's face was unreadable. "Who else could they want? No doubt everyone'll be scrambling to think of some new way to protect me now." There was no mistaking his sardonic tone.

"Bill was taking a risk with the wedding," Ginny said. "Everyone was. How could You-Know-Who pass up a chance like that? It's not like we were keeping it a secret."

"I always thought it was too good to be true," Ron muttered. "Being all carefree like that, for a couple of hours." Hermione reached for his hand under the table and gave it a small squeeze.

"So what now?" Ginny asked. "What now, if you're not going back to Hogwarts?"

It amazed him, sometimes, how strong his sister was. He'd always looked down at her as the baby sister like the rest of his brothers, although of course he was only a year older. She just seemed so small, and she was Bill's and Charlie's and – well, _everyone_'s favorite, really, and they all wanted to protect her. So he just did the same.

But somewhere, sometime, while he hadn't been watching, she had changed. He'd known she'd had her fair share of trauma, what with Riddle's diary and the Department of Mysteries and all, but he still couldn't imagine her like…well, like Hermione. Older; more serious, more responsible, more like an adult. Two days and she was sixteen, though, and he'd been through a lot by the time he was sixteen. She was as strong as he'd been a year ago, smarter and more skilled maybe. Maybe it was because of Harry. Lots of things had changed because of Harry.

Harry looked at her full on. There wouldn't be any secrets between them now. "I'm going to Godric's Hollow," he said. "You know, where my parents… I just thought I might start there."

She nodded, smiling at him. "Maybe we'll find something. And we can visit your parents' graves."

But she was still younger. She always would be.

"You do realize," Hermione said cautiously, "that nobody's going to let us just walk out of here by ourselves?"

Ginny gave her a look that said, _We're not stupid, you know, _but Harry merely nodded. "That's why Lupin is going with us. He told me he'd been thinking about it before the wedding," he added, seeing their incredulous looks. "He visits my parents' graves every year, and he wanted to take me this time. I haven't told him anything else; just that I'd wanted to visit Godric's Hollow too."

"Then maybe we should stay here," Hermione said. "Maybe it should be just you and Lupin."

"But – "

"She's right, Ron," Ginny said sternly. "We'd only end up getting in the way if we went."

Harry looked around at them, a smile flitting across his lips. "Thanks," he said.

"So Godric's Hollow first," Hermione said. "And then what? How are we going to get away without the Order noticing?"

"Well, I've thought of two ways," Harry said with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "When we go to Diagon Alley with your mum, we can take the Invisibility Cloak and slip away. Or we can do the same thing on the Hogwarts Express. Make a show of boarding the train, then put on the Invisibility Cloak and get back off."

Hermione looked extremely skeptical. "The cloak won't cover all four of us," she said matter-of-factly.

There was a strange light in Harry's eyes that looked very familiar. "Mad-Eye put this charm on me two years ago, when we were sneaking out of the Dursleys'," he said. "It's called a Disillusionment Charm. It's got a chameleon effect; you're not invisible, but transparent, almost." He took out his wand and tapped the table.

Hermione and Ginny gasped and Ron's jaw dropped.

The candle that had been in the middle of the table was now suspended in midair, the table beneath it gone.

"It's still there," Harry said, grinning. He rapped his knuckles on what seemed to be thin air, but they could all hear a hollow _thock, thock _as his hand hit the wood. "It takes on the exact color and texture of whatever's on the other side of it – in this case, the floor."

"Wicked," Ron breathed, running his fingers over the tabletop. He was rather impressed; Harry had thought most of this out pretty well.

"I learned it from Lupin," Harry said, satisfactorily watching Hermione inspect the table with a frown. He tapped it again with his wand and it returned to its original state. "Two of us can use the cloak and the other two can use the charm. No one will notice until we're too far to be found."

"You've got it all planned out, haven't you?" Hermione asked quietly. Ron could hear the defeat in her voice, the acceptance that Harry knew, for once, exactly what he was doing.

"Yeah."

"But what'll we tell Mrs. Weasley?"

"We'll have to pretend we're still going back to Hogwarts, for one," Ron said. "We can tell her we're going, but not that we're coming back. She wouldn't suspect anything." It pained him to think about lying to Mum. Well, he always did, but only about little things. Like whether he was doing all of his homework on time instead of playing Quidditch and eating all his vegetables at dinner instead of living on Chocolate Frogs and Cauldron Cakes.

But this wasn't a real lie, was it? He wouldn't be saying they'd be coming back when they really weren't; it would be an unspoken assumption on her part that if they were going, they would return, like always. It wouldn't be his fault her assumption was wrong.

"We should at least leave a note for her or the Order, so they know we've gone off by ourselves and haven't been kidnapped by Death Eaters or anything," Harry said.

Ginny was quiet; Ron knew what she was thinking. This was the real thing. Not some joke, like that one time when they'd played along with Fred and George and pretended to be lost in Diagon Alley but ran back to Mum right before she could go into hysterics. This time, they'd really be gone. It wasn't even to some vast network of shops, where people always watched out for little kids and gently steered them away from Knockturn Alley or helped them if they got hurt. They'd be entering the real world.

And what would Mum say if – on top of letting her run away with him on the most dangerous quest he could ever have thought up – he let Ginny get hurt, or possibly killed? She probably wouldn't leave enough bits of him left to burn for the former, let alone ever forgive him for the latter. That was, of course, if his brothers didn't get to him first.

"Harry…"

There was a pleading note in Hermione's voice that made Ron's heart seize up. They all knew what she was going to say, what she really wanted; but Harry's mind was made up.

"There's no other way, Hermione," he said, his voice devoid of all emotion. Quite frankly, it scared Ron that Harry could be like that. But he was one of the few that could see the true Harry inside, the frightened Harry, the boy Harry, and knew that to fight Voldemort, it was the only way to be. "I can't let anyone stand in front of me anymore. I can't watch people die trying to protect me when it won't do any good in the long run. The whole Order can shield me or hide me for as long as they want, but it's only pushing back the inevitable, letting more people die. It started with Voldemort and me, and between the two of us this thing is going to end." He looked at Hermione, then Ron, then finally Ginny. They held each other's gaze for a long time, their eyes burning with fierce determination.

"It's the only way."

* * *

Harry woke up early the day he'd told Mrs. Weasley he was going to Godric's Hollow. From the view Ron's bedroom window afforded him, he could see grayish clouds spreading over the sky like a thin smoke. Ron was still fast asleep, and Harry moved lightly so he didn't wake him up. Pocketing his wand, he stepped out into the corridor and closed the door behind him. 

He kept his eyes trained on the stairs as he tiptoed down them, carefully keeping his mind blank. He didn't know what to think, now that he was finally going to visit the place his parents had been murdered, the place he had received his scar. And he was afraid of _what_ he wouldthink if he let himself, so he kept all thoughts firmly covered by a filmy layer of vagueness.

He found Mrs. Weasley and Lupin waiting for him when he reached the kitchen; the former stood by the stove with various pots steaming away behind her and the latter was sitting at the table finishing a glass of milk. They had been quietly conversing until he appeared; he reckoned they'd been talking about him, considering the way they abruptly stopped upon his entrance.

"Good morning, dear," Mrs. Weasley said brightly.

"Morning," Harry said as he took a seat next to Lupin. Mrs. Weasley handed him a bowl of soup. "Thanks."

"Had a good night's sleep?" Lupin asked, fiddling with the hem of his sweater.

"Yeah," Harry said, taking another look at what Lupin was wearing. He furrowed his brows. With a faded gray sweater and a baggy pair of jeans, Lupin looked exactly like a middle-aged Muggle man. "Er – why are you wearing Muggle clothes?"

"Godric's Hollow is a Muggle village, isn't it?" Lupin said, cocking his head at him. "It was abandoned a while ago, but there are still people who visit the cemetery there."

"Abandoned? Because of Voldemort?"

Lupin sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Nobody ever found out what happened that night. They just assumed the murders were the work of a Muggle killer. I suspect most of them left for the cities in search of work and whatnot."

Harry looked down at the steam spiraling up from his bowl. _Abandoned. _What did an abandoned village look like? Would it look exactly the way it had sixteen years ago? And his parents' house, would it –

He shook his head. There was no use wondering; he'd be seeing it for himself in a couple minutes. He finished his soup while Mrs. Weasley and Lupin debated whether it would rain or not; despite his protests, Lupin ended up accepting the small umbrella Mrs. Weasley insisted he take.

Lupin stood up as Harry handed his empty bowl to Mrs. Weasley, and the two of them headed toward the back door.

"How are we getting there?" he asked.

"Side-along Apparition, if you don't mind," Lupin said, straightening the collar of his sweater. "We'll be back in time for lunch, Molly."

Mrs. Weasley, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, nodded at them. "Be careful, you two," she said. "Are you sure you don't want a sweater, Harry dear?"

"I'll be all right," Harry said, taking Lupin's proffered arm.

"Here we go," Lupin said.

The awful, constricting sensation Harry had experienced once before last summer came over him. It felt like someone with very big hands was squeezing his head and his chest, and stuffing up his nose and mouth while they were at it so he couldn't breathe, and –

He gasped as his feet slammed into the ground, and his fingers clutched Lupin's arm for support. He gulped in the cold predawn air and wiped his watery eyes on his sleeve. As he regained his breath, he slowly let go of Lupin and looked around.

The first thing he noticed was the silence. He and Lupin were standing in what appeared to be a village square, completely deserted and soundless. There were no birds, no rustling leaves, no nothing except for his own shallow breathing. Everything was shrouded in a wispy, ethereal mist.

"Are you all right?" Lupin asked. "I prefer brooms, too, but this is faster."

"I'm fine," said Harry, rubbing his ears. Lupin looked him over, as if checking to see that he wasn't missing any parts. After a moment he nodded satisfactorily, although Harry was sure he would have noticed if he'd left something behind.

"This way," Lupin said, setting off at a brisk pace. They passed by an inn and a few dilapidated houses, all of which showed the signs of the neglect of at least a decade. The cracks in the cobbled street beneath his feet were filled with weeds.

Neither of them said anything as they passed by more rundown cottages and a store whose dusty display window sported an advertisement for dolls and children's toys. This was where his parents had hid from Voldemort, sixteen years ago. This was where Voldemort had found them and murdered them. This was where his mother's love had protected him from the Killing Curse and destroyed Voldemort; this was where he had received his scar.

"It's coming up," Lupin said quietly, glancing back at him. "Just here…"

They were nearing the edge of the village, and Harry could see the beginning of a forest beyond the tops of the roofs. There were fewer houses now, and the cobblestone street had faded into a well-worn, dusty path. Harry kept his head bowed, scrutinizing the puffs of dust each step of his sneakers sent up.

Soon enough, he heard Lupin's footsteps slow down and eventually stop. Hesitantly, Harry picked his head up.

With his hands in his pockets, Lupin was gazing down at an old, rusty iron gate that stood before him, its bars bent and crooked. It hung slightly open, as if inviting him into the fairly large plot of land it stood entrance to.

Bounded by a short black fence, it was a fairly simple cemetery, unadorned except for the few wilting flowers that lay at the foot of one or two grave markers. Long green grass, weighed down by the early-morning dew, blanketed the graves in a soft, waving layer.

Lupin's shoulders rose and fell in a sigh before he withdrew one hand from a pocket to reach out toward the gate. It swung open noiselessly, without the creak Harry had expected.

The rain began to fall as Lupin led the way through the rows of stone markers, all inscribed with unfamiliar names and a wide range of dates. The light sprinkle, which drizzled down tombstones and pooled on bronze plaques, turned suddenly into a pounding downpour as Lupin reached a cluster of graves that lay beneath the arms of an ancient oak tree.

Regardless of the hammering rain, Lupin closed his eyes and knelt in the wet grass. Standing beside him, Harry stared at the two markers before him through glasses blurred by the rain and mouthed to himself the names chiseled into the cold, gray stone.

_Lily Evans Potter  
1960-1981_

___James Potter  
1960-1981  
Mischief Managed_

He stood there, looking down upon all that remained of his dead parents, and waited for tears that did not come. He, too, knelt in front of the two graves and closed his eyes. Remembering his mother's and father's faces – from the crowd that had beamed at him from the Mirror of Erised, from the collection of photographs in the album Hagrid had given to him, from the ghostly images of Voldemort's Priori Incantatem – he wondered, not for the first time, what it would have been like if Lily and James were alive. What it would have been like to have a home to go back to during the holidays, to write letters and have memories of a childhood filled with hugs and laughter, and to have never seen the Dursleys. To have known Sirius properly, as his true godfather and not a mass murderer sent to Azkaban for twelve years; not a prisoner in the confines of his own house; not a noble, desperate hero who had died for such a foolish cause.

…And, most of all, to not be here, kneeling in sorrow and grief and helplessness, wishing impossible wishes and dreaming impossible dreams.

"Sirius buried them."

Harry could barely hear the whisper over the drumming of the rain. Lupin went on, speaking almost to himself, recalling the memories. "He told me he did, after he found out about Peter and saw the house… Got them out before the Muggles started swarming around, gave his bike to Hagrid so he could take you… And he brought them here; he buried them, made the markers himself. We used to come every year, the last day of October."

Harry blinked against the rain. Raindrops gathered at the corners of his eyes and slipped down his cheeks, mockeries of tears he could not cry.

"They loved you. All of them – Lily, James, Sirius. I think they knew it might end up like this. They were always worried. And I should have known…all of us should have known we couldn't trust Peter…the way he'd been acting, the way he was always with us, but never a part of us… Should have known…"

A pale, trembling hand reached out to touch the stone, to trace the letters.

"And now…it's just us," he murmured. "Just you and me."

And it was right then, listening to Lupin, that Harry finally figured it out. Finally figured out that he was not, and never would be, the only one that felt the pain. Finally figured out that there were people who were affected more deeply and harshly by the deaths and the destruction, people who had grieved for far longer than he had.

And at that moment, Lupin became much more than just a former teacher. He had been James and Sirius's best friend, a man both of them had trusted with their lives; he was Moony, the last Marauder, the last link to Harry's past; and so, to Harry, he was no longer just Lupin. He was Remus.

"You and me," Harry whispered.

Remus slowly turned his head and their eyes met. It was an awful feeling, looking into those eyes and seeing the dark haze of pain and regret, the glazed detachment of losing everything.

And they reached out and embraced each other; hesitantly at first, and then fiercely, as if they were all that they had to cling to as the world around them fell apart. Friend to friend. Brother to brother.

It meant more to Harry than he could ever say. They released each other and got up wordlessly, looking down at the graves one last time before turning to leave. They walked out of the cemetery side by side, shutting the gate firmly behind them.

"Molly's going to kill me," Remus said wryly, observing their drenched clothes. "After that whole umbrella thing."

"We can say it had a couple holes," Harry said, grinning.

Remus smiled back. "I suppose we could, but we'd have to ruin a perfectly good umbrella."

It felt unbelievably wonderful to walk down the street together, and Harry felt a glimmer of hope that maybe Remus could finally be for him what James and Sirius had never gotten the chance to become. But it was just a glimmer, because everything was so unpredictable now. He couldn't afford to give anyone much of anything, like he had given to Sirius, for fear that it would end up killing him sooner or later.

"Are we going back?" Harry asked suddenly.

Remus raised his eyebrows. "I was planning on it. Why?"

"Er – I was thinking maybe, you know…" Their steady stride had come to a halt.

"The house?" Remus asked softly. His eyes had become cloudy again.

Harry nodded.

Remus shook his head. "There's nothing there," he murmured. "Completely destroyed."

"I dunno…I just…" Harry shrugged, unable to complete his thoughts because he himself didn't know what to think. Why?

Remus sighed. "If you really want to," he said, "I can't stop you." He seemed to want to say more, but thought better of it. "It's close by, the other way."

Harry nodded and they turned around, their gait somewhat less confident now. Harry kept his eyes straight ahead, trying to ignore the heady anticipation building up in his chest. There was no use getting excited – there was a far less chance of stumbling across something than not. But he was still nervous, still eager.

He had been so busy attempting to suppress his thoughts that he nearly walked past it. Remus gently put a hand on his shoulder, and he swiveled around.

He was unaware that he had moved further, but all of a sudden he had left Remus behind and approached the wreck.

And it was a wreck – it was nothing but the broken remains of a humble, two-story cottage, destroyed by magic. Shattered bricks were strewn around with shards of half-buried glass. There was a tinny plinking sound as the rain hit twisted bits of metal.

No one had bothered to clean up. The wood, the furniture, anything that could signify that this had once been a house, had decayed and rotted away, leaving behind only fragments and splinters of an existence that could never be put back together.

He stared down at the rubble, at the empty mound of grass and dirt and junk, and wished with all his heart that the tears would come.

Maybe he really had expected something, something more than a ruin stained by blood and screams and death, something only half-healed by the passage of time. Something more than agonizing reminders of what he'd had for far too short a time. A sign would've been nice, he thought bitterly. _Horcrux, five miles straight ahead._ As he walked away, back to where Remus was waiting, he couldn't help but feel bitter disappointment well up inside.

* * *

Up Next: Draco learns the true meaning of 'death and destruction' and receives another mission. 

Ah, yes - happy pi day to all. :) And as you might've noticed, neither of us could come up with something witty/touching for Lily's gravemarker. If you've got a suggestion, feel free to stick it out there. And yes - review. We're running out of reasons why you should, so just go with the flow. Please?


	5. Truth and Deceit

Happy St. Patrick's Day :)**  
**

* * *

**Truth and Deceit** – _"You have absolutely no idea what you've gotten yourself into."_

"…_Failure to obey orders…_"

The nasally words danced a jig in his mind, flitting around like possessed butterflies, evading all attempts at being comprehended.

"…_Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange…_"

The name was familiar, somehow. He knew the face it belonged to, knew it was somewhere nearby, somewhere in the rings of blurry, masked figures around him, but he couldn't match the two.

_And why in Merlin's name are they chanting?_

They had been for a while, almost overpowering the droning voice that made the words dance, but not quite. The meaningless litany beat into his skull like a drum, and he wanted to scream at them to stop.

"…_Punishment for cowardice, branding_… _The accused, Draco Malfoy, will stand…_"

_That's my name…_ Distantly, he heard the hiss and crackle of fire. It sounded just like those old Muggle things – radios, was it? – when they weren't tuned correctly. Two pairs of rough hands wrenched his arms up until he was swaying on his feet. His right leg was sore and he felt like retching.

"…_You may begin…_"

One figure stepped out of the closest rings of skull masks. There was a revolting malice about the swirling black cloak...about the cruel, twisted sneer…

His shirt was ripped off his back. A great dirty _thing_ in his mouth muffled all sound, all protests…his mind told him to run, to get away, but the greater his effort, the tighter those hands gripped him…one of them turned him around, and he felt a wave of heat wash over his back…

It felt good, chasing away the chill,

But then it was too close

Much too close

Laughter echoed in the night air

The gag was ripped from his mouth

And then the white-hot brand met tender, pale flesh, and Draco Malfoy screamed.

* * *

Dreams roiled in his mind, breeding and seething and living by their own laws. 

_An old man stood before him, his long silver beard reaching down past his waist. Brilliantly blue eyes twinkled at him, promising warmth and kindness, joy and protection. He reached out a hand, but it was swatted away. A wand was pointed at his heart, but his smile never wavered. A flash of green light, and he was suddenly falling backward, toppling over the side of an impossibly high tower, still smiling…_

_A woman was on her knees, hands clasped, begging, pleading to the hooded figure towering over her, repeating one word over and over – "Draco…Draco…Draco…"_

_A girl lay in the blood-soaked dirt amidst rubble and debris, her shirt torn open and her head bleeding, sightless eyes staring up at a fogged sky…_

_A man was pinned to the wall of a blood-smeared house, his blond hair tangled and matted in front of burning eyes, condemning eyes…_

_A red-haired woman attempted to shield her sleeping infant from a hooded figure who gave a cold, high-pitched laugh. A man was sprawled on the ground behind them. "Please no, take me, kill me instead! Have mercy…have mercy…"_

_The visions clouded, but just before it disappeared, he saw a boy on the ground, staring up at the sky with cloudy green eyes._

* * *

Draco was first aware of the creaking: back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. The persistent sound made him open his eyes, to stare at a black ceiling. A sheet the color of dried blood was draped over him, concealing the fact that he was naked down to the waist. 

His back throbbed with an unholy pain, as well as his leg.

_Where am I?_

The room's walls were the same color as his sheets. A dresser made of polished wood stood to his right. There was a dark fireplace directly before him, its marble mantelpiece bare. To his left there was a low table with a mirror in a gilded frame. A desk had been pushed next to it, in front of which sat a sallow-faced man in a damask chair.

_Snape._

He had his eyes closed and his breathing was deep and regular. Draco assumed he had fallen asleep. His throbbing back was making it hard to concentrate, and when he tried to sit up a terrible pain lanced up his spine and he fell back with a gasp.

Snape stirred and opened his fathomless eyes.

"Awake, are you?" he asked. His voice was low and raspy, as if he hadn't used it in a long time. The creaking continued in the background as he stood up and walked toward the bed. "How do you feel?"

"Horrible," Draco mumbled, closing his eyes. "What…happened? I…I can't remember…anything."

"You were unconscious," Snape said shortly. There was a low buzzing in Draco's head to go along with the creaking that made it hard to hear.

"How…long?"

"Two days."

_Two days!_ "Where…"

"I can't tell you our exact location; all I can say is that we are far from Hogwarts."

He flinched. _Hogwarts. The old man – Dumbledore. Falling, falling… _"Dumbledore," he whispered.

There was no answer. Draco no longer had the strength to open his eyes. Finally, Snape said, "He's dead."

He flinched again, and he felt his chest constrict. _Falling…_

"_I haven't got any options!"_

"_I can help you, Draco."_

"_No, you can't. Nobody can. He told me to do it or he'll kill me."_

"_Come over to the right side. We can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. Come over to the right side…you are not a killer."_

"I didn't…" he murmured. "I didn't…" He hadn't done it. Hadn't killed him. But he was dead. Who killed him?

_Snape._

"_Severus… Severus…please…"_

"_Avada Kedrava!"_

The old man had pleaded, but Snape had always been on the Dark Lord's side. Always.

_Stupid old fool._

"You," he said. "You killed…him…"

Again, the silence.

"I didn't…do it…"

He hadn't killed. But then – he had not fulfilled his duty. He had not obeyed his orders.

"Father…Mother…"

"They're still alive." Snape's voice drifted to him as if from a very great distance.

_Still alive._

"_He told me to do it or he'll kill me."_

"I wasn't…he didn't…?"

He forced his eyes open to see Snape looking down at him, the expressionless eyes holding the slightest hint of pity. He approached him and grasped him under the arms, helping him to sit up. Draco grimaced against the pain, biting his lip to keep from crying out. With Snape's help, he was able to stand.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror. Dull gray eyes stared back.

Snape turned him around, so that his bare back was facing the mirror. "He did," he said.

Draco craned his head to look at the reflection. His eyes widened in horror and shock as he found the source of his pain.

A half-healed scar stretched diagonally across the flesh of his back, which was raw-red and scabbing over, right along the lines where a word had been branded:

_Coward._

Draco turned and retched, and the world went black.

* * *

"It's time. Let's go." 

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

Draco shot Snape an irritated look, but the older man seemed disinclined to elaborate.

"What are you waiting for? We'll be late."

Draco heaved a sigh and donned the long black cloak Snape had given to him a few days ago, pulling the deep hood up and over his face. His back had completely healed, but he took pains not to look at it.

"Hurry," Snape said, giving the room a cursory look before pulling the door open. Draco hurried to follow him as he strode swiftly down the dim corridor. He heard the door close by itself behind them.

Several other hooded figures joined them, emerging from behind doors identical to his. It was silent save for the whisper of robes, and Draco dared not make a sound as he stayed on Snape's heels.

The Death Eaters in their voluminous cloaks seemed to glide down the vast marble staircase at the end of the corridor and across the flagstone floor toward the entrance doors. Draco followed in awed silence, taking in the somberly furnished entrance hall. Unlike Hogwarts, there were no suits of armor or paintings, but there were candles gleaming here and there, hazily illuminating the colossal fireplace to the right and an enormous opening to the left, which was covered by a vast black curtain.

As the Death Eaters approached the lofty, polished entrance doors, they opened of their own accord. Draco stepped out into the balmy night and was confronted by an expansive field of tall, waving grass. The cloaked figures waded out into the field and formed a tight circle. Draco stood sandwiched between Snape and a small, wiry man whose whistling breath could be heard through his hood. One of the Death Eaters produced what looked to be an empty bottle of pop from the depths of his cloak and held it out. The others reached forward to place their hands on it, and Draco realized it was a Portkey. He hurriedly stretched out a hand and managed to get a finger on it just as he felt the familiar tug behind his navel.

They were spinning in a fluttering black whirlwind, colors flashing before his eyes, the wind whistling in his ears. His feet slammed into the ground with a force that made him gasp, but he managed to stay on his feet. The Portkey clunked to the ground several feet away from him.

Draco blinked and gazed out at his surroundings as his fellow Death Eaters shuffled about him, evidently preparing for something. They were standing on a high grassy hill, overlooking a small village. Smoke rose from a dozen chimneys in thick columns up to the inky black sky while lights from the windows burned brightly.

Suddenly, a shower of red sparks shot up from the outskirts of the village, dotting the sky like bloody stars. It seemed to be a signal, because the Death Eaters began dashing down the hill. Draco ran alongside Snape, their robes fluttering around their ankles.

"Why aren't we Apparating?" Draco asked.

"It's warded," Snape said curtly. "Take out your wand."

Wordlessly, Draco did as he was told. As they neared the village, he could see a group of Death Eaters hiding outside, surrounding the entire place. A sudden chill ran through him and he tried to slow down, but Snape grabbed his arm and pulled him on. The Death Eaters, as if on cue, rose up as one and rushed into the village, shouting and yelling. One raised his wand and a dark, thick fog engulfed them all, so that Draco could see only several feet in front of him.

He suddenly wanted nothing more than to turn back, to run away; he was beginning to think that he should have followed the old man's advice, should never have joined.

There were screams filling the air now, accompanied by the tinkle of glass breaking and the thump of doors flying open. The acrid smell of smoke made Draco's nose sting. Abruptly he stopped running, trying to deny what he already knew was true. Snape whirled around and grabbed the front of his cloak.

"You will come, and you will do what I tell you," he hissed, his black eyes as fathomless as ever.

"I won't," Draco said, hoping he sounded more forceful than he felt. _I should have known, I should have known!_ "I can't."

"You can and you will," Snape snarled. He jerked Draco around and pushed him forward. The screams were louder, the pain and fear laden in them clearly discernable. The source of the bright lights and smoke became evident – many of the small houses were steadily going up in flames.

Several feet away, a tall, brawny man came crashing out of his house with a deafening roar, brandishing his wand in one hand and what looked like a club in the other. He blasted the nearest Death Eater with a powerful jet of red light and swung his club at another. Both fell, screeching in pain. Snape darted forward to join the ring of Death Eaters closing in on him, while Draco took the chance to escape –

– Straight into chaos.

People were stumbling around, wands flashing, jets of light tearing through the thickening fog. A beam of silver light missed him by inches and blasted through the wall of the house behind him, leaving a gaping hole behind. A man staggered out as Draco watched, one side of his head dripping blood. He looked up and charged the first cloaked figure he saw – Draco.

All rational thought fled his mind and he was left with one, raw instinct: survive. He barely managed to scramble out of the way as the man tore past, lunging at the air. Before the man could turn back, Draco raised his wand and stuttered the first spell that came to mind.

"_S-Sectumsempra!"_

Blood spurted from the man's chest, some of it spattering on Draco's cloak. He fell over with a thump, one hand clutching the gaping wound.

The noise seemed to dim as Draco stared down at the dead man in shock. _He's dead. I killed him. He's dead._

And life went crashing on as someone stumbled against him. Hands grabbed at his cloak as the figure struggled to stay upright, and his hood slid off. Draco found himself staring into the fear-stricken eyes of a young girl. She couldn't have been much older than Draco himself, and she was bleeding profusely from several deep gashes in her arm.

"Help," the girl gasped, obviously not realizing who Draco was. "Help – no, we've got to get out of here, we've – c'mon – got to tell someone – "

And then there was a Death Eater before him, skull mask leering down at the girl. She didn't even have the chance to scream as a flash of green light hit her chest. Her fingers let go of Draco's cloak as she toppled backward, her mouth open in disbelief.

"Put your hood up," the Death Eater growled before disappearing back into the smoke.

Trembling, Draco looked back down at the dead girl lying beside him – the dead girl who had been so urgent, so _alive_ just a moment ago; he caught just a glimpse of the terror-stricken face before the haze swirled over it.

"Draco!"

Draco whirled around at the familiar voice. Snape was running toward him, black cloak billowing around him. His gaunt, sallow face was spattered with blood.

"Draco, where – " Snape's words stopped short when he saw the dead girl; he looked down at her, then back up at him with a strange expression.

"I-I didn't," Draco stammered. "I didn't!"

Snape suddenly jerked him back and slashed his wand in the air to cut down the man that had been rushing towards them, carrying a burning torch. He fell heavily, his head smashing against the cobblestones. Blood pooled around his brown hair, spreading and seeping into the cracks in the stone.

"Now is not the time to talk," Snape hissed, spitting blood out of his mouth. "Stay with me."

They dove back into the fray once more, but the fighting had already begun to die down. There was less shouting, less spells crackling in the air. The fog slowly started to lift, but Draco wished it wouldn't. Without it, he could clearly see the dark red stains on the ground, could smell the pungent odors of blood and sweat and smoke. Bodies sprawled everywhere, lying in their own gore, sightless eyes staring up at the black sky. Men, women, children, old folk; no one had been spared.

_Just like the dream…_

Snape led him past it all without a word. Without flinching, without a blink of an eye. And seeing him like that – so indifferent to the carnage, the destruction – made Draco finally realize that Snape really _had _killed Dumbledore. Compared to this, the old man must have been _easy._

Above them, another shower of red sparks soared into the sky. Snape stopped abruptly, as did the other Death Eaters around them. They all looked up and raised their wands, as did Draco, at the sparks now suspended overhead. He added his voice to the concurrent cry that came after –

"_Morsmordre!"_

There was a great rushing sound, as if all the air in the world was being sucked out of the earth. Draco's arm shook as an enormous green specter burst from the tip of his wand to join others in the muddy sky. Before his awed eyes, the amorphous light writhed and coiled until a massive skull shone like a second, mutative moon in its place. The trademark snake slithered out of the gaping mouth, and Draco couldn't suppress a shudder as he watched it.

He glanced at his silent companion, who stood immobile, head thrown back in the direction of the gleaming symbol.

"The Dark Lord has arrived," Snape whispered. "Follow me." With a swirl of the cloak, he resumed his steady pace toward Merlin-knew-where. Draco hurried after him, the whispering rustle of robes and cloaks around him indicating that others were doing the same.

They amassed in what seemed to be the village square, standing around a large bronze statue of a phoenix. Snape dragged Draco through the crowd until they stood at the very front. The white hand on his shoulder seemed to burn through his cloak and scald his skin. He couldn't see what everyone was waiting for.

And then a swift wave of coldness rushed over him and the gathered Death Eaters, pushing some to their knees. Whimpers and groans were iterated all around him as he struggled to stay upright, gasping for breath. It could only mean one thing –

Dementors.

Sure enough, he could see their horrifying forms suddenly materialize before him, standing in a circle around the phoenix statue.

The cold, the fear –

Cold, so cold –

Go away –

God, please – leave me alone!

Draco squeezed his eyes shut, scrabbling at his chest as if to pull the coldness, the darkness out with his bare hands. The grip on his shoulder was painful, digging into his flesh –

"Draco!"

His mother's voice, calling to him, begging, pleading –

Twinkling blue eyes, gazing benignly from behind half-moon spectacles, so understanding –

"Draco!"

A man standing over a woman who was huddled over in pain, beating her with a stick, cutting into her bare back –

A blonde-haired little boy, crying in the corner, shying away from a towering man who stood above him, shouting curses and oaths –

"Draco!"

The fierce hiss in his ear, the warm breath, jerked his mind out of fantasy and back to reality. He was on his knees – when had he fallen to his knees? – gasping and shuddering, cold sweat saturating his body.

"Get up!" a voice from his right hissed again, urgently, and Draco recognized it as Snape's. Draco dazedly obeyed, remnants and shreds of the images still plaguing his mind.

The dank cold was still there, churning around him but no longer able to penetrate, as if magic had been cast around them. Something was pressed into his hand; he grasped it, his fingers' wary touch immediately identifying it as chocolate.

"Eat, quickly," the voice whispered.

Draco nodded, shoving the piece into his mouth and chewing mechanically. Instant warmth pervaded his body, chasing the chill away. But not the fear, the apprehension.

Another black form was appearing, this one right in front of the statue. Tall, haunting, chilling; it silently studied its surroundings. Horror and panic scrabbled around in Draco's mind, disorienting his thoughts, as the hooded face turned upon him. One shrouded arm lifted, revealing a pallid, long-fingered hand. Slowly, carefully, that hand drew back the hood.

It was as if some invisible forced clamped down hard on Draco's neck and shoved him down to his knees. Trembling uncontrollably, he knelt on the stony ground, unable to notice the pain of the rocks digging into his legs. He did not dare look up, but felt the burning, scarlet eyes on him anyway; him alone.

Yet when that high-pitched, hissing voice spoke, it was to everyone. Though uttered barely above a whisper, the words seemed to resonate in the night, in the mind, like the reverberations of a gong.

"Good evening, my Death eaters."

The murmured replies buzzed in Draco's ears as he muffled his whimper of fear as best as he could in the folds of his cloak.

Lord Voldemort had arrived.

* * *

Up Next: Hermione proves that the powers of persuasion are – well, powerful. 

In the, er...jolly spirit of the Irish...please review? ;)


	6. Back to the Beginning

As always, thanks to our reviewers - especially **Moon Goddess**, for pointing those thingys out. :)

* * *

**Back to the Beginning - **_"A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step." – Lao-tzu_

It was dark out, and quite a ways past midnight. But without a breeze to rustle the trees, the balmy summer night had a tranquil air about it. The moon shone bright upon the quiet country, a lone escort to the hundreds of brilliant stars that speckled the blue-black canopy of sky like Weasley freckles.

High up on the weathered roof tiles of the Burrow, four lanky teenagers lay on their backs and stared at the sky. No one spoke as the quiet minutes ticked by, all of them feeling content just to be together. They had been coming up to the roof ever since Harry had returned from Godric's Hollow, at Ginny's suggestion. Flying up on brooms right after the sun set, they would lay four in a row, Ginny and Hermione always in the middle, Harry and Ron to either side, providing comfort in presence as they wiled away the night hours.

This particular night, the two Weasleys had already fallen asleep, leaving Harry and Hermione to gaze at the stars in companionable silence. Hermione's head was cradled in the crook of Ron's arm, her hand firmly clasped in the softly snoring redhead's. Harry gently held Ginny, who slept peacefully with a small smile on her lips.

Hermione shifted slightly, wiggling closer to Ginny. With her free hand, she reached over the slumbering girl and found Harry's hand. He grasped hers readily, reveling in the sudden comfort the small gesture brought.

Glancing down at Ginny, Harry heaved a wistful sigh. He wished sleep would come as easily and relaxingly for him, but there were too many troubling things on his mind.

Dutiful Hermione had already asked if he wanted to talk about what had happened at Godric's Hollow, but Harry had just shaken his head. What was there to tell? There had been nothing left.

But like precious good friends, the three of them understood. It was a silent understanding they had, accepting that he wanted to keep whatever he had seen to himself, and a hesitantly silent comfort they held out to him; but to Harry, that was enough. It was enough that they stood by him, and that they were willing to stay until the end.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"We love you," she whispered, and her voice was light and feathery in the warm air. The soft-spoken words seemed to drift over to him, as if on a cloud. "If you're scared, or lonely, or sad, tell us, and we'll be there. Wherever you're going, we'll go with you. All of us."

Harry nodded, because he couldn't say anything else. Ron, Hermione, Ginny; they were their own people. Putting a Full Body Bind on them was really the only way to keep them from following him, and he couldn't very well do that, unless he wanted their wrath to come crashing down on him.

"I wish this could last," Harry murmured back, and the stars in their heavenly loft seemed to wink at him. "I wish we could just stay here forever, like this."

"Mmm," Hermione agreed, squeezing his hand. "Forever…"

He suddenly felt as if Hermione had cast a soporific spell over him (which wasn't such an outlandish thought.) His mind seemed to drift away from his body, and, still grasping Hermione's hand, he closed his eyes with a yawn.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes to find himself in a bed, listening to thunder crash and bang outside. Startled, he quickly sat up, his hand scrabbling for the wand he'd stashed under his pillow. It took him a moment to realize he was in Ron's room. He blew his cheeks out, leaning his head back against the wall. Mrs. Weasley must have brought them all back last night, before the rain started to fall. 

He glanced at the clock on the far wall, its mustard-yellow face starkly standing out against the bright orange background. Mrs. Weasley had hung it there recently, completely ignoring Ron's vehement protests about hideous colors. According to her, it was an antique clock, having had belonged to the grandfather of Ron's great-uncle's second cousin's aunt once removed (or something of the sort), and Ron should be proud to be the owner of a family heirloom with such an interesting history. Ron had muttered something fierce about hand-me-downs, but had failed to take the clock down.

Illuminated by the occasional flash of lightning, the clock's glinting silver hands indicated five-thirty. With a sigh, Harry turned his head away to stare at the ceiling. He wished he could go back to sleep, but knew that any attempt would be futile. The flashes of green light and Voldemort's high, cold laugh had recently begun invading his dreams again, and in this lonely room, where the sound of his own breathing was putting his nerves on edge, the vulnerability of his subconscious was infinite.

But at least Ron was here, lying but a nudge away, and Ginny and Hermione two rooms down. There really wasn't anything to fear. Just two days ago, Aurors from the Ministry had arrived to place wards on the Burrow, to keep unwanted visitors out and prevent anyone who had no business leaving from setting foot out of the door. Ron and Ginny had been quite indignant about this, for it had hinted that their parents didn't think them trustworthy, but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley didn't even deign to argue. In fact, Harry had never seen Mr. Weasley's face so stony. _But too bad there aren't any wards that block nightmares_, he thought bitterly. _Even Hogwarts' enchantments couldn't repel dreams._

He closed his eyes, drawing his knees up to his chest. _It couldn't even repel a traitor,_ he thought, wincing. The events that had taken place there, the scenes that had been burned into memories, no more than two months ago, were still raw wounds in his mind: The small area under the Astronomy Tower, marked off with shimmering golden lines; Hagrid, carrying the star-spangled purple bundle, every crag in his weathered face filled with tears; the tall, empty chair at the center of the staff table; and the hushed, stifling train ride back home, Lavender and Parvati's sniffling the only sound to accompany the rattle of wheels.

As Slughorn had said, in that room behind the gargoyle, would any parents be willing to send their children back to the school now? The fact that Death Eaters had gotten in, had stayed in long enough to wreak havoc and allow one of their number to _kill_ the greatest wizard alive, was appalling. Hogwarts was supposed to be _safe,_ people would whisper. It was supposed to be the most protected place in the Wizarding world. What more treachery could be bred in that castle, if the Headmaster's death could be brought about by one of his trusted colleagues?

But as Ron had pointed out, there was safety in numbers. Besides being a fortress in itself, Hogwarts could be easily defended, with so many wizards inside. And Harry was quite sure that his fellow students would not abandon their school so swiftly. Hadn't Sprout asserted her belief that if even a single student vouched for the castle to reopen, it should? If only he could go back, he'd have made _sure_ the governors voted to keep Hogwarts running.

But then again, what was the old castle without Dumbledore? Harry sighed again. Reopening his eyes, he reached for the book on his bedside table – _Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts_. Retrieving his wand, he pulled the covers around himself and settled down to read about Blasting Curses.

* * *

"Ron and Ginny, I want you two outside to de-gnome the garden, now that it's cleared up a bit," Mrs. Weasley said as Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were finishing up breakfast. "And no buts about it," she added severely as they both prepared to complain. Ginny rolled her eyes and angrily stuffed the last piece of toast into her mouth as Ron groaned. "And Harry and Hermione, you wouldn't mind clearing up here?" Mrs. Weasley went on. "I've got somewhere I've got to go, but I'll only be a moment…" 

"Sure, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, scraping up the last bit of scrambled eggs on his plate.

"Thank you, dear," she said as she swept past him, handbag dangling from one arm. "Now, don't any of you get into trouble, you hear?"

"Yes, Mum," Ron and Ginny said dully. "Goodbye, Mum."

Mrs. Weasley shook her head as she left the kitchen.

"Well, we'd better get started," Ron sighed, standing up. "She'll probably give it one of her Inspections when she comes back."

"Yeah," Ginny muttered darkly. "Inspection."

Harry grinned and grabbed her arm as she walked past, pulling her down to kiss her on the cheek. "Put a gnome in his shirt," he whispered in her ear.

She stifled a giggle as she followed Ron outside. Hermione had already gotten up and begun stacking the plates and collecting the silverware

Harry shook his head. "Hermione, there's a little thing called _magic,_ see?" he said, taking out his wand. With a little flick, all the cups and dishes soared over to the sink and began to wash themselves. Hermione rolled her eyes and pulled out her own wand to direct the silverware into the suds.

"I didn't think you could do it," she teased. "Nonverbal cleaning spell? I'm impressed."

"I've been studying," Harry said nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair. "And it's easier now that I can actually practice the spells."

"Harry – about that…" She sat down slowly, not meeting his eyes. Fidgeting for a moment, she finally took a deep breath and said quickly, "You can't go."

He groaned inwardly; he should've known she wouldn't give up so easily. He _had_ thought it was strange, how little resistance she had put up before. "We've gone over this," he said sternly. "I don't want to do it either, but it's the only – "

"That's the thing, Harry!" Hermione said earnestly. "It's _not _the only way. You can go back to Hogwarts – it's only sensible. There are people there who can help you, people who know more about this fight than us. Honestly, Harry, what _do _we know? You said we can slip away in Diagon Alley, or at King's Cross – but then what? Have you ever thought about what to do next? You don't know where – or even _what _– the Horcruxes are. Were you planning on traveling cross-country, asking people if they've seen a Horcrux lately?"

"I – "

Hermione cut him off with a fierce look. "We haven't been brought up to live like that, Harry. We don't have any experience. Can you even imagine running around the streets like urchins, with nowhere to sleep, nothing to eat, and no time to relax because you're always worried about who's following you?"

"Hermione – "

"And one more thing," Hermione went on. "Somebody's _bound _to notice we're missing if we run off like that." She seemed determined to find everything that was wrong with Harry's plans. "We can't hide from the Order, Aurors, _and _Death Eaters for long. And with just what we know, anybody could track us down."

Harry sighed. She had a point – which was the problem with Hermione. She _always _had a point. And she looked as if she'd been setting up this argument ever since the funeral. "I know. I know it's ridiculous and stupid and that there's half a chance in a million that we can pull it off. But I _can't _go back to Hogwarts," he said. "If – "

"Rubbish," Hermione said firmly. "Hogwarts has everything – "

"You don't even know if it's going to reopen," Harry retorted.

"And if it doesn't, that ruins your plans, too," she shot back. "Going to Diagon Alley, King's Cross – that all depends on whether or not we return, doesn't it?"

He hadn't thought about that. _Blast. _Why did she have to be so smart?

_So she can save your bloody arse, _a snide voice said.

Yeah, but –

_Admit it. Without her, you'd already be dead._

Yeah, but –

_Shut up, Potter, and listen to her. You're not ready for this. It's not a movie, where people just haul off and fortuitously stumble across what they're looking for a day later. This isn't a fairy tale anymore, and you of all people should know it._

Harry looked back up at her. "I can't do it there," he said, knowing he'd already lost. He sounded pathetic. "I'll have to take classes, and finishing homework and studying for N.E.W.T.s will take too long. I can't waste time doing that anymore."

"Harry, everyone's here to _help _you, not hold you back," Hermione said sharply. "Don't think the things we learn in class are rubbish – we're taught things for a reason. Teachers are here to encourage you, teach you. You can't see it because you're so worried about Voldemort and Horcruxes, but you know that you couldn't have made it this far without the people you're trying to blow off – "

" – I'm not _blowing them off,_ it's – "

" – Like Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Lupin, Hagrid, Mrs. Weasley, Madam Pomfrey – they're all doing things behind the scenes that you don't realize. And if you go now and – and tell them to shove off and then get yourself _killed, _what would they do? What would _we _do? You're always telling us that you've got so many things to deal with, so many things to worry about. And we don't _want _you to have to worry about it. But every time we take it away, you always go looking for it. If I didn't know better – if you hadn't yelled it at us so many times – I would have thought that you _wanted _people to feel sorry for you. And I want you to understand, right here, right now, that you aren't the only one with problems. Mrs. Weasley – her whole family's in this war, but she still finds time to care and fuss over everyone, including you. You've seen her, Harry, you've got to admit – she's not well. It isn't healthy for her to be up all night, carrying that clock around just to make sure the hands don't stray toward 'dead.'"

Harry stared at her. She shook her head and sighed. Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward, her pleading eyes boring into his. "If you can't think of it like that, then think of us. Think of Ginny. Her parents are in the Order; her father was attacked two years ago. Five of her brothers are fighting, and one's so loyal to you he'd kill himself if that meant you could live. The sixth has turned his back on everything he believes in and gone running to the Ministry. And worst of all, she's in love with a cursed hero who's got a prophecy to fulfill and only one in a thousand chance of living past the age of twenty. You know what it feels like to love. You know what it feels like to _lose _someone you love. We both know she's a strong, powerful witch – but what does that mean when you're up against Voldemort? Are you willing to drag her into who-knows-what out there, risking her life when you could both be safe in Hogwarts?"

"I told her she could stay," Harry said flatly. "I told her she _should _stay."

"But you know she won't, and you can't stop her," Hermione said. "Ron's going along with you because he doesn't know better – he's just like you – and he wouldn't leave you for all the Chocolate Frogs and butterbeers in the world. And me, I'm going because – I don't know, Ron's irrationality has rubbed off on me or something – "

A fleeting smile crossed her face as Harry covered up his snort of laughter with a cough, but it was soon replaced by a somber look.

"Please, Harry," she said softly. "I know it's hard" – Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes – "but we're just trying to make it easier. Schoolwork doesn't have to be first priority this year – I'm sure Professor McGonagall will understand. Everyone will."

Harry sat back and let out a long breath. _She's right,_ the snide voice whispered. _And you've known it all along. Go ahead, admit it._ "You're right, Hermione," he sighed. "I didn't really have a plan. I just thought…things would happen, you know? I don't know how to do anything. I don't know how to find the Horcruxes, how to destroy them. And everybody's expecting all of this from me, and I know I can't let them down. But I don't know how _not _to. Everything's just so hard."

Hermione's eyes had glazed over. "Oh, Harry," she said in a strangled voice. "We'll help you. Everybody will help you. We can find a way if we work on it together."

Harry put his head in his hands. "I don't know, Hermione…I don't know."

"We will," she said determinedly. "And…" She leaned forward until they were only inches apart. "Promise me," she whispered, taking his hand, "promise me you won't – that you'll make it out of this mess alive.

Harry looked up into her hopeful eyes, shining with tears. He said the only thing he could.

"I promise."

* * *

"Harry's got something to tell you two," Hermione informed Ron and Ginny as they sat down – Ginny next to Harry on his bed, Ron on the floor with his head against the bedpost, and Hermione at Ron's desk. 

Ron merely grunted in reply, looking none too chuffed. Mrs. Weasley had kept him and Ginny outside for an extra half hour to dig out weeds because they had trampled her rhododendrons.

"I, er, decided to go back to Hogwarts," Harry said, looking down at his hands. "I didn't really have much of a plan, and Hermione convinced me I was being stupid – "

"I did not say that," Hermione said indignantly.

Harry grinned. "Not out loud."

Ron was looking extremely relieved. Ginny slipped her hand into his and squeezed it. "So it's reopening?" she asked.

"Well, uh," Harry said, glancing at Hermione for help, "we don't know for sure – "

"Professor McGonagall will make sure it does," Hermione said firmly.

Ginny looked satisfied with this. "Good," she said. "Hogwarts closing would scare people more than anything else. Even though Dumbledore's gone" – Harry noticed the small catch in her voice as she said this – "there's plenty of people to defend it against Voldemort. I suppose Professor McGonagall will be Headmistress?"

"Who else is there?" Hermione said, sighing. "But that means we'll have a new Transfiguration teacher, too."

"A nicer one, I hope," Ron grumbled.

"Nicer isn't better," Hermione admonished.

Ginny shook her head. "So if you're going back, what are you going to do? Are you going to take classes and N.E.W.T.s and everything?"

"He'll be searching for Horcruxes," Ron said. "And we'll help you. D'you reckon Madam Pince will let us into the Restricted section?"

Hermione shook her head. "We've already looked there, and there's nothing that mentions them. We'll have to find out some other way."

"Sorry to interrupt this lovely conversation," Ginny interjected, "but would anybody mind explaining what a Horcrux is?"

Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione; the looks on their faces told him they'd forgotten they hadn't told Ginny about the Horcruxes too. And Harry remembered that he still hadn't told any of them how he'd gotten the locket and what exactly had happened the night Dumbledore died.

"They're, well…they're really Dark magic," Harry said, feeling uncertain as how to explain it. "Objects a person can put a bit of their soul in. So if a body is killed, that person isn't really dead because there's still a bit of soul out there in a Horcrux."

Ginny sat up, her forehead creased in consternation. "Your _soul?_ That – it – so that's what Voldemort did? That's why he didn't die, when his body was destroyed? Because he had a Horcrux?"

"Not _a _Horcrux," Harry said grimly. "Seven of them."

Ginny's shock had seemed to reach its peak; she didn't say a word as Harry continued. "Whenever you murder someone, it tears your soul apart. Splits it into two. And there's a spell that lets you put half of that into a Horcrux. Voldemort did it six times. The seventh piece is in his body."

He could see Ginny's mind – the part that had already accepted and gone past the dreadfulness of what she'd heard – working furiously to sort things out.

"So there are six Horcruxes," she said slowly. Harry nodded, and Ginny grimaced. "But they could be _anywhere._ He wouldn't have left them lying around."

"Exactly. And that's why we have to find them and destroy them. If we can get rid of the Horcruxes first, then with only one-seventh of a soul left in his body, Voldemort should be weaker and easier to kill."

"But you've already destroyed some of them, haven't you?" Ron said.

Harry nodded slowly. "There's only four left now. Or possibly three. Dumbledore destroyed one last year – that's why his hand was all black and dead-looking. Riddle's diary" – Harry glanced at Ginny and saw the slight flinch in her eyes – "was the second. And then there's this."

Harry reached into his pocket and withdrew the gold locket, holding it up so Ginny could see. Harry took a deep breath. "The night he died, Dumbledore told me he had found another Horcrux. He offered me the chance to go with him. I took it."

Three pairs of eyes were staring intently at him, but he didn't notice. He had closed his eyes, remembering the night, the cave. "There was a cave, and Voldemort had set up wards, kind of, that we had to get past. Inside, there was a big lake filled with Inferi… The Horcrux was in a basin across the lake. It had this green liquid in it, and you had to drink it all to get the Horcrux. Dumbledore…he made me promise to give it to him, even if he told me to stop…" Harry's voice had dropped to a painful whisper. "He drank it all. I don't know what it did, but he screamed…kept telling me not to give it to him, kept saying he'd done something wrong, that he should be hurt instead of other people. The Inferi attacked, but he got back to his feet and drove them away with fire. We took the locket from the basin, left the cave. And when we got back to Hogwarts…"

He leaned his head back against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut and willing the tears not to leak out. He felt Ginny wrap her arms around him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

He opened his eyes again a moment later, feeling a roaring anger replace the grief. "It was all for nothing," he said quietly. He looked down at the locket in his hand and clenched his fist around it. "Someone had already taken the real one and left this in its place."  
_"Taken?"_ Ginny asked incredulously, sitting up straight.

Harry opened the locket and passed the piece of parchment inside to Ginny. She scanned it quickly, then looked up with troubled eyes. "R.A.B.?"

"We don't know who he is," Harry said. "Could be anybody. And we don't even know whether he really destroyed it or not, because it says he _stole _it and _intended _to destroy it."

"And…the other ones?" Ginny asked tentatively.

Harry shrugged, letting his shoulders drop heavily. "I don't know," he admitted. "Dumbledore figured they would be things the Founders' used to own, because Voldemort liked important things."

"What was the one Dumbledore had destroyed?" Ginny asked. "The one that made his hand black?"

"The ring," Harry said. "Marvolo's ring. He was a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, and the ring was an heirloom."

Hermione cupped her chin in her hand, brows furrowed. "So…" she said ruminatively. "If that was Slytherin's, and the locket was Slytherin's…the remaining three must be something of Hufflepuff's, Ravenclaw's, or Gryffindor's, right?"

"He got something of Gryffindor's?" Ron asked, looking astonished.

"It's possible," Harry said. "But Dumbledore didn't think so, because the only remaining relic of Gryffindor was his sword, which was in Dumbledore's office."

"That's not all," Hermione said suddenly. "The Sorting Hat. It used to be Gryffindor's. It was in _Hogwarts, A History._"

"The _Sorting Hat?_" Ron scoffed. "A Horcrux?"

"I'm not saying it _is_," Hermione said testily. "Just that it was once Gryffindor's."

"Ron's right," Harry sighed. "A Horcrux wouldn't be singing in front of the entire school in broad daylight. It's got to be something hidden, something we probably don't know much about." He rubbed his temples. "Hufflepuff had a cup that belonged to an old lady Tom Riddle knew. He killed her and probably stole the cup, too, so that could be one of them."

"How would we find it?" Ron asked. "_Accio Hufflepuff's cup?_"

"Don't be a prat, Ron," Hermione said crossly. "You can't even summon your broom from here, how do you expect to transport a cup from who-knows-where?"

Ron crossed his arms and grumbled something unintelligible. Ginny rolled her eyes. "Grow up, Ron."

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, getting increasingly irritated. "There was one more thing…Dumbledore mentioned that Nagini could be a possibility."

"Nagini," Hermione repeated. "Voldemort's snake?"

"Animals can be made into Horcruxes?" Ginny asked, frowning. "Wouldn't that interfere with the snake's soul?"

Harry shrugged. "I haven't got the slightest idea, but I reckon Nagini's being possessed, since Voldemort's soul is stronger than the snake's."

"That would make sense," Hermione mused. "And I suppose finding a snake is easier than finding an inanimate object."

"How _do _you destroy Horcruxes?" Ginny asked, looking perplexed. "Like, how would you destroy a locket? I know Riddle's diary was destroyed with basilisk venom… And – oh my God," she said, her eyes widening.

"What?" Ron asked quickly, half-rising from the floor.

Ginny looked down at Harry's hand, and Harry immediately caught her line of thought. "Dumbledore's hand," he said softly. "I don't know what happens when the Horcruxes are destroyed. Dumbledore never told me how he got rid of Marvolo's ring. I've been studying Blasting Curses and Exploding Jinxes, but I don't know if they'll work. I don't know about the after-effects, either."

"Wouldn't the fact that you're the Chosen give you some sort of…I dunno, safeguard?" Ron said. "Nothing happened to you after you destroyed Riddle's diary."

"We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?" Harry said grimly. "We don't exactly have expendable people we can experiment with."

"This is all the more reason you shouldn't go_ gallivanting_ by yourself," Hermione said reproachfully. "You can go to the Hospital Wing if anything happens, but out there? You'd have to depend on _us._"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Definitely a scary thought."

Ginny smirked. "Especially with Ron around."

"Hey! I'm not _that _useless," Ron said indignantly.

"Right. Only 99 useless," Ginny snickered.

"Well, we _have _been studying a bit," Hermione said, "and Ron's not too bad with charms."

Ron looked smugly toward his sister, who rolled her eyes.

"I've been thinking," Harry said, feeling that it was time for a change of subject, "didn't Dumbledore have a brother?"

"Aberforth," Hermione supplied.

"Didn't he get arrested for something?" Ron said, scratching his head. "Something about a goat, I think. Didn't seem like much of a brilliant bloke."

"Yeah, Dumbledore told me he couldn't read, either," Harry snorted. "But wouldn't they still have kept in touch? I mean, they're brothers, after all."

"But he can't even _read,"_ Ron said. "What good is a guy who can't _read?_"

"Reading isn't everything," Hermione said. "He – "  
"I'm sorry," Ron said, staring at her in shock. "Could you repeat that? _Reading isn't everything?"_

"Of course it's not, don't be a prat," Hermione sighed. "Do you think he could be part of the Order? He could have been working for Dumbledore under cover, sort of like a spy…maybe Dumbledore made him sound a little dim so that people wouldn't suspect him. It sounds rather ridiculous that Albus Dumbledore's brother couldn't _read…_"

"Then how come we've never seen him before?" Ginny asked. "He's never been to an Order meeting, has he?"

Harry frowned. "I think we have," he said hesitantly. "Seen him, I mean. Mad-Eye showed me a picture of him once, when he was part of the original Order, and…" He took a deep breath. "I think he's the barman at the Hog's Head."

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny stared at him.

"The Hog's Head," Hermione said. "You don't mean that grimy old man with the beard?"

"Yeah, him," Harry nodded. "I always thought he looked familiar, and I think it's because I saw that picture of him before."

"But what would he be doing in the Hog's Head?" Ron asked.

"Well, lots of things are said in bars," Ginny deliberated. "Especially when people get drunk. And the Hog's Head's known for having suspicious people, isn't it? So Aberforth would overhear things the rest of the Order couldn't, and then he'd report to Dumbledore later."

What had Dumbledore said last year? _Merely friendly with the local barmen. _It all made perfect sense to Harry. Hadn't Hagrid told him the Hog's Head was usually filled with odd people? Somebody had sold him a _dragon _egg there, which was illegal. And if smugglers frequented the pub, then why not Death Eaters? Valuable information could be gleaned from eavesdropping on conversations, and no one would ever suspect a grumpy-looking old barman of secretly plotting against Voldemort.

"Well then, we need to talk to him, don't we?" Harry said.

"But Harry, we're not even sure it's him," Hermione said.

Harry shrugged. "There's no harm in asking, is there?"  
"You're just going to go up to him and ask, 'Are you Aberforth Dumbledore?'" Hermione asked skeptically.

"Why not?" Harry said nonchalantly. "If he says no, then he's not and we're wrong. If he says yes, then, well, brilliant."

Really, what did they have to lose? If the barman _was _Dumbledore's brother, he could provide them with bits and things he'd overheard and maybe tell them more about the Dumbledores. Everything he'd never had the chance to ask the Headmaster could be answered. Aberforth would know how his brother found a Horcrux and destroyed it, wouldn't he? Aberforth would know how Dumbledore became so powerful; how he knew so many languages…maybe he'd even know who R.A.B. was.

And if it wasn't Aberforth…well, they'd be no worse off than they were now. _Besides_, he thought, _it's time we started taking matters into our own hands._

* * *

Up Next: A return to Hogwarts reveals a mysterious, unexplained absence on staff and prompts whispers from the students. 

Yes...we think you're far enough into the story to know that reviewing is greatly appreciated. Every single itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny one of you.


	7. Whispers

Whew - longest chapter yet. Hope we don't bore any of y'all. And the song somewhere down the middle is included courtesy of the Fat Chipmunk's rhyming skills. :)**  
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* * *

**Whispers…** - _"Does the walker choose the path, or the path the walker?" – Garth Nix_

"Your letters are here," Mrs. Weasley announced, distributing the envelopes of yellowish parchment as Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny sat down to lunch. Harry accepted his with slightly shaking hands, inspecting the green ink in which the letter had been addressed with something quite akin to fondness. _Mr. Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley's room, The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole._ And to think he'd almost passed up this chance to receive his last letter.

McGonagall had dropped by the Burrow earlier that morning to tell them the board of governors had made a decision – to keep Hogwarts open. It had been nearly unanimous, with only two people voting against. Hermione had given him a knowing look as Ron and Ginny grinned at each other, and he supposed he should have known, too. Ginny was right – closing down Hogwarts would have scared more people than anything else.

Just as Harry was about to pull the first piece of parchment out, there was a very high-pitched shriek. Hermione leapt out of her chair and pulled the nearest person – a very disgruntled Ginny – into a rib-crushing hug, still screaming.

"Hermione – _Hermione – _Merlin's beard, GET OFF ME!" Ginny bellowed, wrenching Hermione's arms from around her waist with a Herculean effort. "Would you shut – "

Hermione brandished a shining object in Ginny's face, her face glowing radiantly. _"I'm Head Girl!" _she squealed, apparently trying very hard to restrain herself from grabbing Ginny around the waist again.

"Congratulations, dear!" Mrs. Weasley beamed, allowing Hermione to embrace her instead. "I'm very proud of you."

"Of course she would," Ron muttered, shaking his head as he stared at his own letter. Harry had the faintest notion that Ron was _disappointed…_ Personally, he'd always known that no sensible teacher would ever make him or Ron Head Boy. Prefect was fine, of course, but _Head Boy? _There were plenty of more eligible people, like Ernie Macmillan.

"Couldn't expect otherwise," Harry said with a wry smile, sidling past Ginny ("Merlin, I swear she broke a rib!") to give Hermione a chance at squashing his lungs. "Congrats," he wheezed, after she'd released him.

"Oh, this is _wonderful!_" Hermione said once she settled down, admiring her badge. "I'll have to write Mum and Dad right away."

"Any ideas about who Head Boy is?" Ginny asked as Harry pulled out his letter, scanning it quickly.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock. A list of books for next year is enclosed._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Professor Flitwick_

_Deputy Headmaster_

"I figured it would be Flitwick," Ron said, peering over Harry's shoulder as Hermione rattled off the names of possible candidates for Head Boy. "Charlie said he'd been teaching the longest, after Dumbledore and McGonagall. And he'll be a hit with the first years – I reckon they're the same height, don't you?" Ron snickered.

Harry shook his head as he examined the second sheet of parchment inside his envelope, which turned out to be the booklist. Many of them were the same as last year's, including _Advanced Potion-Making. _He narrowed his eyes – he hadn't thrown out Snape's copy yet, mainly because doing so would be a waste. Snape was fickle in his loyalties, but his knack for creating spells had been genuine. If he could master everything written in the book and use then them against the greasy traitor, it would only sweeten his revenge.

He sighed as he set the letters aside and picked up his fork, digging into the plate of mashed potatoes Mrs. Weasley had placed before him with relish. He had a long two weeks ahead of him, if he was going to memorize all the spells he'd marked off in _Practical Defensive Magic._

* * *

The morning of departure for King's Cross Station was met with the usual flurry of activity. They had all packed their trunks the day before, as soon as Mrs. Weasley had returned from Diagon Alley with their supplies, but Ron had insisted on practicing Shield Charms long into the night. Harry reckoned that if he hadn't gotten overly irritated at about two in the morning, Ron would have forced him to stay up all night making cushions fly at his head. 

"Are you all ready?" Mrs. Weasley called up the stairs as Harry stumbled out of Ron's room, lugging his trunk behind him.

"Almost," Ron shouted back as he stuffed the last of his robes into his trunk and forced it shut. "Let's go," he said to Harry, and they staggered down the stairs with their trunks levitating before them. Ginny and Hermione were waiting beside the front door with Crookshanks' traveling basket and Hedwig's and Pigwidgeon's cages by their feet, whispering to each other.

They were ten minutes behind schedule by the time everyone had boarded the shiny black cars the Ministry had provided, and Mrs. Weasley didn't look too pleased. They were nearly silent during the entire ride, and Harry almost dozed off.

"Remember, there'll be Aurors," Mrs. Weasley warned as they began unloading their trunks at King's Cross. "No funny business, or they'll be all over you."

But no one came forward to escort them, as had happened last year. In fact, the whole place seemed more unruly and chaotic. His skin prickled with the stifling feeling that accompanied a great tension in the air. It wasn't the absence of people – the usual gaggles of students, families, and Muggles dotted the crowds. It was more like the atmosphere that had changed; the carefree excitement that had typically been associated with the start of a new term had vanished. It was in the strides of people that walked by; most of them traveled in groups now, huddled together as if the presence of others would ward away whatever evil they felt was stalking them. Despite the sporadic shouts of laughter and ubiquitous smiles, everyone's eyes held shielded looks and hands never strayed far from pocketed wands.

"Quick, through the barrier," Mrs. Weasley said, herding the group forward. She glanced around, as if looking for someone. "Harry, why don't you and Ron go first."

Ron nodded at him, and the two of them pushed their trolleys directly at the solid barrier, and found themselves, a second later, standing on platform nine and three-quarters. The scarlet Hogwarts Express stood before them, belching steam into the air. Hermione, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley joined them within seconds.

He turned to Ginny, about to ask her if she was going to sit with him, when he saw them.

He would never have noticed them in the first place, stationed as inconspicuously as they were – loitering like bored students in front of the train or posing as tired men and women sitting on benches – if he hadn't seen a familiarly tall, dark man chatting with a woman with mouse-brown hair not five feet away from them.

Aurors.

The others would have been virtually indistinguishable from the ordinary people if he hadn't detected the glances Kingsley and Tonks shot to their companions. And once he became aware of them, he found that they were _everywhere._ They stood around longer than any normal person would have, and they scanned the passersby much too keenly and much too often.

"Get straight on the train, all of you…" Harry's observation was confirmed as Mrs. Weasley shot a look in Kingsley's direction. Swiveling around to look back, he barely caught the Auror's answering nod. "…Only a few minutes left," Mrs. Weasley finished.

"Did you see them?" Hermione whispered to him as he led the group toward the train, casting about for an empty compartment.

"I saw Tonks and Kingsley," Ginny announced in a low voice from Harry's left. "I suppose Mad-Eye would be too noticeable, though, I didn't see him."

"Mmm," Harry agreed. "Anyone see an empty compartment?"

"Well, I've got to go to the Heads' carriage first and patrol with the prefects for a bit," Hermione said, fingering the glinting badge on her chest and looking slightly apologetic. "Can one of you take Crookshanks?"

"Sure," Ginny said, taking the basket from her as she hurried away toward the front of the train. "Look for Neville or Luna, we can sit with them," Ginny suggested as they pushed through the throng.

"Over here, you two," Ron shouted from Harry's right, and he and Ginny hurried toward him. They loaded their trunks and scrambled up onto the train, waving goodbye to Mrs. Weasley.

"You four be good now," Mrs. Weasley called through the window as Harry slid the door shut. "Look after yourselves, and don't get into trouble – "

The train began to move.

" – do all your homework – "

Mrs. Weasley was jogging to keep up as the train gathered speed.

" – and don't do anything dangerous!"

Harry couldn't help but snort at this last statement. He probably wouldn't be safe if he lay in bed all day. He turned to see where the others were; Hermione was most likely exchanging opinions on Russian politics or something of the sort with whichever nutter had become Head Boy, but Ron and Ginny were a little way along the corridor, talking to Neville.

"Hey, Harry," Neville greeted him. He jerked his thumb at the compartment behind him. "There's room in here."

"Hi Neville – thanks," Harry replied, hastily filing in behind Ron and Ginny. He could already feel eyes on his back. Luna was seated by the window, immersed in the latest edition of the _Quibbler,_ whose cover announced that researchers had just discovered a new species of Long-Nosed Whicklespit.

"Hello, Harry," Luna said, smiling up at him and blinking her large, dreamy eyes.

"Hey," Harry said, taking a seat beside Neville. He set Hedwig's cage down at his feet, next to Pigwidgeon, and the two owls hooted at each other. Ginny, with Luna's consent, dug around Luna's bag until she found an extra copy of the _Quibbler._

There was a sudden shriek outside their door; Harry and Ron leapt to their feet, wands in hand. Ginny stared at the window over the top of her magazine, then rolled her eyes with a loud sigh.

Harry caught a glimpse of Romilda Vane, the bold fifth-year who had tried to slip him a love potion last year, giggling at him before vanishing.

Suddenly feeling very annoyed, Harry pocketed his wand and slumped back in his seat. Apparently there were still people whose personal interests took precedence over the fate of the world.

"Why don't you just tell them to leave you alone?" Luna inquired, peering at Harry.

"Or kindly inform them that you're taken," Ginny scowled.

"You could get a Wrackspurt to plague their minds," Luna said, nodding sagely. "It's really quite disorienting."

Harry, who had no idea what a Wrackspurt looked like or where he could find one, shrugged uncomfortably. Catching Neville and Ron's eyes, he hastily began talking of potential candidates for the vacant posts on the Hogwarts staff.

The rest of the voyage was uneventful; Harry fell asleep against the wall and woke up an hour or so later with a horrible crick in his neck. Massaging the tense muscles with one hand, he looked around; everyone else had fallen asleep, too, including the owls. Ron, who looked as if he would start drooling if he didn't close his mouth soon, shifted in his seat; his foot knocked into Ginny's, and the copy of the _Quibbler _that had been in her lap slid to the ground. Moving carefully so as not to disturb anyone, he reached down and picked the magazine up. It had been opened to a page dedicated to conspiracy theorists that claimed several members of the Wizengamot were smuggling dragon eggs into London. Grinning to himself, he settled back to read the article.

A breathless Hermione dropped in only once as the others slowly came awake and the lunch trolley trundled by. She rambled on nearly incoherently for all of five minutes, waving around a Licorice Wand as she related several topics of discussion she'd had with the Head Boy – who was, incidentally, none other than Ernie Macmillan ("Go figure!") before rushing out the door again, calling out something like "corridor patrol" over her shoulder.

"Looks like she's having fun, doesn't it?" Ron grumbled, slouching back and glaring moodily out the window.

Ginny shrugged. "Well, we better change into our robes, we're almost there," she said, returning her copy of the _Quibbler _to Luna.

"Yeah," Harry said, standing up to retrieve his trunk.

The train began slowing just as they had all straightened out their robes. All five of them leaned over to look out at the tall spirals of the towers that punched through the murky clouds. Harry peered at the lake over Luna's head, determined not to let his gaze stray toward the Astronomy Tower.

"See Hagrid?" Ron asked him, speaking a bit louder to be heard over the usual racket as everybody scrambled to get their luggage and pets ready for departure.

Harry squinted into the darkness, but the feeble moonlight allowed little visibility. He shrugged.

The compartment door slid open; they all jerked around in surprise, but it was only Hermione again.

"Could one of you grab Crookshanks? I'll see you at the feast!" she said quickly. With that, she popped back out.

"Anything for our dear Head Girl," Ron grumbled, swinging Crookshanks' traveling basket off the luggage rack. There was a muffled yowl, which Ron pointedly ignored.

The train finally screeched to a stop. After checking to see that they hadn't forgotten anything, the five of them shuffled out of the compartment.

Breathing in the fresh smell of pine trees that lined the path down to the lake, Harry looked around, listening for the familiar call of "Firs' years over here…firs' years…"

But it never came. Instead, a brisk female voice was calling, "First years line up over here, please! All first years to me!" Harry didn't need the lantern swinging around in the darkness to tell that the voice belonged to Professor Grubbly-Plank.

"It's that woman," Ron hissed in his ear as they were shunted off the platform and out through the station.

"I noticed," Harry replied, frowning. He had also noticed that there were far fewer people jostling around them. It seemed that many parents had ultimately decided to withhold their children from Hogwarts this year.

"You don't think he's sick?" Ron was saying.

"He'd better be okay," Neville said, shaking his head.

_He can't have left,_ Harry told himself as he espied the thestral-drawn carriages and began moving toward them. _McGonagall wouldn't have let him._

"Harry! Ron!"

Harry turned around just as he was handing Ron Hedwig's cage to load onto the carriage; Hermione emerged from the crowd, red-faced and panting.

"Did you see Professor Grubbly-Plank?" she asked, taking Crookshanks from Ron with a nod of thanks.

"No, really? Where was she?" Harry asked scathingly. Hagrid's absence was, a bit irrationally, rather worrisome. The gamekeeper had _never _failed to greet the first years at the station – except for that time in fifth year when he'd attempted an alliance with the giants. But obviously no one would risk trying that again, so where would he be?

"I hope he's okay," Hermione said anxiously, taking no notice of Harry's sarcasm as she climbed up into the carriage. "What with Dumbledore being gone."

Harry grimaced as he clambered in after her. If there was anyone who had respected Dumbledore more than Hagrid, he would have eaten his shoes. He reckoned Hagrid had never imagined a time when Dumbledore would not be there for him.

The ride up to the stone steps leading to the oak front doors was silent. Hermione fidgeted with the hem of her sleeves and opened her mouth several times, but thought better of whatever she'd been planning to say each time and shut it with an audible click of her teeth.

When the carriages jingled to a halt, Harry got off first. He turned again to look for the glow of lit windows down by the forest, but there was no sign of life within Hagrid's cabin.

"Let's go," Ron said heavily from beside him, also casting a troubled look in the direction of the dark forest.

"Yeah," Harry said, tearing his gaze away and hurried joining the crowd pushing their way up the stone steps into the castle.

The entrance hall was ablaze with torches and echoing with footsteps as the students crossed the flagged stone floor for the double doors to the right, leading to the Great Hall. Harry slipped his hand into his pocket and clenched his fist, trying to prepare himself for the sight of the Hall.

The change in the air was tangible as soon as he set foot upon the threshold. Everything was enveloped in a thick silence that made his throat go dry. Besides the scrape of benches, there was almost no sound; several whispered discussions were being held here and there, but for the most part, the usual shouted greetings and exchanges of summer news were nonexistent.

The diminished number of students was even more apparent as people shuffled to their respective tables; empty seats dotted the benches like the gaping holes in a troll's mouth. It was particularly noticeable at the Slytherin table, where nearly all of the older students – especially those in Harry's year – were absent. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw both had decent showings, but Gryffindor was by far the most impressive – everyone in his year and Ginny's year was present, as well as a good number of the younger students.

He trudged inside, wondering how the atmosphere could change so drastically with the absence of one man. The staff table was all but unbearable to look at. Someone had removed the throne-like golden chair that the Headmaster had always occupied. There was no authoritative blue-eyed man with a crooked nose and long silver beard watching the incoming flood of students with a broad, fatherly smile.

In his place sat McGonagall, surveying the Hall with an indecipherable expression. Her mouth was thinner than he'd ever seen it, set with a firmness and strain that suggested it was taking all she had not to flee.

The other professors – teachers he had become so used to over the years, whose faces he regarded both fondly and resentfully – now sat in gloomy contemplation of the students before them. Even Slughorn was somber as he stared off into space.

Luna drifted away from them at the Ravenclaw table, and Ginny's fellow sixth years motioned for her to join them as they reached Gryffindor's. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville found seats together halfway down the table next to Nearly Headless Nick. Not far away, Dean and Seamus were sitting with Lavender and Parvati.

Harry squirmed in his seat as he watched the last of the students take their places. It didn't feel _right,_ sitting here awaiting the start-of-term feast without Dumbledore. It rather felt like they were breaking some sort of tradition.

"Hagrid's not there," Hermione whispered.

"He can't have left," Ron said, in the tones of someone who was hoping he sounded much more persuasive than he felt.

"He hasn't," Harry said firmly, willing to think of anything, however depressing, other than Dumbledore.

"I don't think the Order would have let him – where would he go?" Hermione asked.

"Maybe he's sick," Ron suggested.

"Look," Hermione said, pointing toward the staff table, where two unfamiliar people sat. "Those must be the new Defense and Transfiguration professors. And there's Professor Grubbly-Plank." Harry watched as she worked her way along to the very end to the chair that ought to have been Hagrid's.

A few seconds later, the doors from the entrance hall opened and a line of scared-looking first years entered; Harry noted that even their numbers had been depleted. They were led by Professor Flitwick, who levitated before him a stool on which sat an ancient wizard's hat.

"The stool's taller than he is," Ron said, smirking.

The first years lined up in front of the staff table and Professor Flitwick set the stool carefully in front of them. They didn't have long to wait for the Sorting Hat's new song.

_There was once a time  
That is hardly recalled  
When magic was great  
And held the world enthralled;_

_When wizards were friendly  
And cause for learning united  
When simple tricks and games  
Had little children delighted._

_But that time has passed by  
And our carefree lives are no more,  
For a great and terrible evil  
Has come knocking on our door._

_And never since the founders four  
Were whittled down to three  
Have the Houses been united  
As they once were meant to be._

_Then, over half a century ago  
_He_ sat within these walls;  
With hopes for brilliant powers,  
_He_ traversed these same halls._

_But as _his _ancestor before _him  
He_ strayed from the path of light  
And departed from this school  
With tainted dreams of might._

_And I repeat:  
Never since the founders four  
Were whittled down to three  
Have the Houses been united  
As they once were meant to be._

_Now this new iniquity  
Threatens the Hogwarts dream again  
And I fear more than ever  
To split you will haunt me again._

_But that is what I'm for,  
What I was made to do,  
So I will conclude my song  
With one more warning for you._

_Steel yourselves for what is to come__  
Read the cautions history shows,  
For without your faith and power,  
Hogwarts will fall to deadly foes._

_Gryffindor must combine its nerve  
With Slytherin's cunning ways;  
Hufflepuff will reveal the truth,  
Ravenclaw will have their day._

_We must come together now  
Or we'll crumble from within  
I have warned you one last time…  
Let the Sorting now begin._

The motionless hat was met with rather hollow applause.

"More advice," Ron muttered with a sigh.

"And heed it you should," Nearly-Headless Nick declared. "Why, when – "

But Professor Flitwick, who was waiting to read out the list of first years' names, was looking around at the whispering students with a disapproving glare. He cleared his throat loudly; it came out sounding like a strangled squeak, but it got everybody's attention. Nick gave a silent _harrumph _and sat primly upright again. Professor Flitwick grimaced as he held out the long piece of parchment and called out, "Ashbaum, Kelly!"

A little blonde girl stumbled up to the stool and carefully placed the hat on her head. After a moment's consideration, the rip near the brim opened wide and bellowed, "_GRYFFINDOR!"_

Harry clapped loudly with the rest of Gryffindor House as Kelly Ashbaum sat down upon a bench, looking as though she would like very much to have an Invisibility Cloak in her hands.

The line of first years thinned relatively quickly; "Zabinski, Ethan" was soon sorted into Ravenclaw, and Professor Flitwick picked up the hat and stool and marched them away as Professor McGonagall rose to her feet.

"To our newcomers – welcome to Hogwarts!" she announced, nodding at the first years now scattered about the Hall. "To all our old acquaintances – welcome back, and please, let us retain our proper behavior as we begin the feast!"

There was an appreciative laugh at this effort to lighten the mood, and soon everyone was digging into the mountains of food that had just appeared.

"Excellent," Ron said with a contented sigh, grabbing the nearest plate of roast beef and piling great slabs of it onto his plate.

"Sorting Hat sounded ominous, didn't it?" Dean was saying as he took a swig of pumpkin juice.

"Yeah, my mum tried to stop me from coming this year," Seamus growled.

"There's nothing to be worried about, really," Hermione said knowledgeably. "The Ministry's got Aurors posted everywhere around the school and in Hogsmeade – "

The conversation gradually progressed from school security to the identities of the two new faces at the staff table to the recent attacks and arrests, which were the most serious subjects of discussions Harry had ever heard at a feast. He himself contributed his opinion only when asked directly; he found it much more interesting to listen to the opinions and arguments bandied about.

When all feasting had come to an end and the noise level began creeping slightly upward, Professor McGonagall stood up again. The talking ceased immediately. Harry thought she looked terribly small and alone and weary as she gazed around the Hall. But when she addressed the students, her voice rang with clarity and strength.

"As all of you should know by now," she said heavily, "the end of our last semester was marred by a great tragedy. Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts for a great many years, was murdered by one of his former colleagues."

Many of the older students bowed their heads in the short pause that followed, while the first years looked either bewildered or solemn.

"Though we are all distraught and troubled by his absence, time stops for no one," Professor McGonagall continued firmly. "I am Hogwarts' new Headmistress, and, as such, expect full cooperation from every single one of you with the changes this year has brought.

"First years should keep in mind that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds – to _all _our students, regardless of age or ability.

"We also have two changes in staffing – we are pleased to introduce Professor Drake, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and Professor Blackthorn, who will be taking over Transfiguration."

Harry raised his eyebrows at Ron as the two teachers stood up. Both looked relatively young, with easy-going dispositions. Hopefully neither would be as demanding or forbidding as Professor McGonagall.

"Hogsmeade trips will be fewer in number and strictly supervised," she went on as Professors Drake and Blackthorn took their seats. "Also, we have decided not to hold the Quidditch Cup this year."

There was a collective gasp from the majority of the students, but they were quickly shushed as Professor McGonagall glared the protests down. Ron gaped at Harry in shock, but Harry just shrugged; this was one of the things he had expected. Even if Professor McGonagall had allowed Quidditch to continue, he would have resigned as Captain. There wasn't time for things like that; not anymore.

"This is due to a variety of security reasons concerning student safety during matches," Professor McGonagall said in a tone that brooked no argument. "And now, before we send you off to your beds, I would like to repeat the warnings: _stay safe._ Although magical reinforcements have been heightened over the summer, we must still be on the lookout for any signs of carelessness on the part of any student or staff. Should you notice anything suspicious within the bounds of the castle, report it to a prefect, the Head Girl or Boy, or any staff member immediately. We are relying on your mutual aid to keep the school – and each other – secure. It is time we put our petty differences aside and work as one unit – as the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"But for now, I'm sure you have heard enough, and as I suspect only half of you are hearing what I'm saying – I bid you good night!"

There were a few chuckles as everyone stood up. Stifling a yawn behind his hand, he stood up with the rest of the school. However dire the circumstances of the world at the moment, he was too tired to make much of it.

* * *

Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the Great Hall for breakfast the following morning, the first thing they saw was the enormous Hogwarts banner hanging above the staff table. 

"Really focusing on House unity this year, aren't we?" Ron said as they walked toward to the Gryffindor table, where Dean and Seamus waved them over.

"New seventh year course schedules," Seamus informed them as Dean passed over three sheets of parchment. "Pretty lax, compared to past years."

Harry examined his schedule, noting that he had been given quite a few free periods.

"Blimey, look at that," Ron said, eyes wide with shock. "We've got two – no, _three_ free periods today! Two in a row right now and one after Herbology. _Excellent!_"

"Those are for studying," Hermione told him crossly, "not playing chess and sleeping in."

"I'll do whatever I want," Ron said, reaching for the nearest plate of sausages. "What d'you reckon we should do first, Harry?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she went back to scrutinizing her schedule. "Visit Hagrid," Harry said, downing his glass of milk in one gulp. "I want to know why he wasn't at the feast yesterday."

"Oh, yeah," Ron said, his expression turning somber.

"What do you three think about Professor Drake?" Dean asked, spreading marmalade on his toast. "I heard he's an Auror."

"An Auror?" Ron said, perking up.

"Makes sense, doesn't it?" Seamus shrugged. "It's about time we had a decent bloke teach that class."

"We've had decent teachers," Hermione said defensively.

Seamus snorted. "You can't be serious, Hermione. The first one had You-Know-Who coming out the back of his head, the second one's in the loony bin, the third one was a werewolf – "

"Professor Lupin was one of the best teacher's I've ever had," Harry said quietly, taking a bite of scrambled eggs. "I learned a lot from him."

"Yeah, he was pretty good," Dean agreed, licking marmalade off his fingers. "Mad-Eye wasn't bad, either."

"Of course he was, except for the minor setback of being a Death Eater in disguise – but we've all got our problems, haven't we?" Harry said sarcastically.

Dean shrugged uncomfortably. "Anyway, the Umbridge woman isn't even worth mentioning" – Ron shuddered – "and well, last year…"

He trailed off uncertainly, frowning down at the marmalade-covered toast in his hand.

"Professor McGonagall wouldn't have hired an incompetent Auror to teach here," Hermione said at last. "We've got to trust the staff's judgment."

"How do we know he's not connected to the Ministry?" Harry said, suddenly struck by the thought. "He might be here under orders, like Umbridge was."

"I wouldn't put it past them," Seamus said darkly.

Dean shrugged. "We'll just have to wait and see."

The discussion turned toward homework and N.E.W.T.s, and Hermione seemed to be torn between participating in the conversation and scolding Ron as he polished off his third helping of eggs and sausages. Harry finally got up, dragging Ron with him ("Just one more, Harry!") and waving to Dean and Seamus as he made his way out of the Great Hall.

"D'you reckon we can just walk out?" Harry asked, eyeing the two Aurors standing guard on either side of the oak front doors.

Hermione looked around disapprovingly at the milling students before turning her attention to the Aurors. "Well, I suppose it won't hurt to try," she said, starting forward.

Harry followed her with Ron in tow. They had almost made it to the doors when a sharp, commanding voice called out, "Potter!"

Wincing, he spun around to see Professor McGonagall sweeping down the marble staircase toward them, an almighty frown on her face. "Potter, where do you think you're going?"

Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione. "Er…to see Hagrid, professor," he said.

She had reached the front doors and was now staring severely at him, although she had to tilt her head back a bit because he was about an inch taller. Harry resisted the urge to take a step back. "First of all, Mr. Potter, no one is allowed outside for any reason unless they have the permission of a staff member and an escort," she said, nodding at the two Aurors by the doors, "neither of which, I believe, you have obtained. Second, I am afraid your trip would be in vain. Hagrid is not here."

"Not here?" Harry demanded. "Why not?"

Professor McGonagall gave him an icy look. "That, Mr. Potter, is something you are not qualified to know. However, I do require your presence in my office. If you would follow me."

Harry exchanged bewildered looks with Ron and Hermione before hurrying to keep up with Professor McGonagall. She led him back up the marble staircase to the second floor, where they strode down the empty corridor until they arrived at the stone gargoyle guarding the Headmistress' office. It sprang to one side as Professor McGonagall tapped it with her wand, and they ascended the moving spiral staircase up to the door with the griffin doorknocker. It, too, swung open when Professor McGonagall tapped it with her wand, and she stepped inside.

"Well, come in," she said impatiently, taking a seat at her desk.

Harry slowly entered the room, remembering the last time he had set foot in it. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it didn't seem much different from the night Dumbledore had died. Professor McGonagall had kept all of his whirring and puffing silver instruments in what seemed to be their exact same locations; Gryffindor's sword still rested in its glass case beside the Sorting Hat, which lay on a shelf behind the desk. But Fawkes' perch was gone, as well as the bowl of Lemon Drops Dumbledore had always had; it had been replaced with a tin of Ginger Snaps.

And there was the newest addition to the ranks of past headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts – but today, the golden frame was empty. Dumbledore had evidently stepped out.

"Have a seat," Professor McGonagall said, indicating the chair before her. Harry took it, determinedly meeting the headmistress' steely gaze. "Mr. Potter, there are several things I would like to have a word with you about," she began, resting her elbows upon the desk and leaning forward. It was strange seeing her sitting there instead of Dumbledore. In one aspect, she seemed incredibly out of place, and yet she still retained the same powerful aura commanding respect and deference that Dumbledore had always had.

"I haven't changed my mind," Harry said defiantly, "if that's what you're talking about." Professor McGonagall might be headmistress now, but that didn't change the arrangements he'd made with her predecessor.

Professor McGonagall's eyes acquired a flinty edge. "Mr. Potter, you know better than anyone else what kind of situation we are in. I have a school full of children to watch over, children whose parents have trusted me with their lives. The information you have may be crucial – "

"It is," Harry said. "But I promised Professor Dumbledore that I wouldn't tell anyone." He realized, even as he said this, that he'd already broken his promise – he'd told Ginny about the Horcruxes. But he trusted her, as much as he trusted Ron and Hermione.

But didn't he trust Professor McGonagall? She was also part of the Order – an original member, in fact, and high enough in Dumbledore's circle of trust to have been promoted to deputy headmistress. Despite her severity and her ruthless façade, Harry couldn't imagine Hogwarts without her, just as he couldn't have imagined Hogwarts without Dumbledore. He reckoned she had done more for the school than most people – including him – gave her credit for. So why couldn't he tell her?

_Because she might tell other people. _If she knew, what would stop her from informing other staff members, Order members? They would obviously be people _she _believed were trustworthy, but how trustworthy, in turn, would those people be? This was the way rumors spread, and Harry definitely didn't want the entire world – and Voldemort – knowing that he was destroying bits of Voldemort's soul.

_But she can help. _She probably knew things he didn't, things he'd never be able to find out on his own – things like who the bartender at the Hog's Head really was and if he was really Aberforth. And there were many other areas in which he could do with assistance.

"Harry," Professor McGonagall said softly, "Dumbledore is gone. Not even he could have prepared the way of things in the event of his death."

"No," Harry said fiercely, quietly. "Dumbledore will never be gone. He will never be gone as long as I'm here, as long as students keep coming here to learn, as long as Hogwarts stands."

"Well said, Harry, well said," said a familiar voice.

Harry and Professor McGonagall both whirled toward the source of these words, which happened to be the golden-framed portrait on the wall – which now held the smiling face of Albus Dumbledore.

"Professor!" Harry said in a rather strangled voice. Dumbledore seemed so real, so alive…it was almost as if he could step out of his painting and walk around his office, eat another Lemon Drop, and go down to greet the students like nothing had changed.

"It heartens me to see you are well," Dumbledore said, still beaming at him. Harry noticed that the twinkle in his blue eyes was gone – no artist could have captured that in a painting. It pained him to see the emptiness there, the only true indication that this was not Dumbledore; not really.

"It's, er, good to see you, too, professor," Harry mumbled.

"I must apologize, but I couldn't help but overhear your lovely conversation," Dumbledore went on, seemingly oblivious to the odd look Professor McGonagall was giving him. "Quite an interesting topic, I daresay."

"Albus, Mr. Potter has steadfastly refused to tell me what two were up to," Professor McGonagall said edgily. "I find it highly – "

" – highly impressive that he would obey my instructions even now, yes," Dumbledore said genially. "I imagine you are dreadfully curious about these matters, Minerva."

If paintings could have twinkling eyes, Dumbledore's would have had them right then. Professor McGonagall looked slightly miffed. "Albus, will you _please_ tell the boy that it is no longer necessary for him to keep his promise, as You-Know-Who is all but sitting upon our doorstep?" she demanded.

"Voldemort, Minerva," Dumbledore corrected. "I find it exceedingly strange that a woman of your aptitude and competence continues to call him You-Know-Who. And as Harry was the one to make this promise, it is not for me to decide whether he keeps it or not."

Harry looked up at Dumbledore, who had suddenly become quite serious. "No one can force you to say things you do not wish to," he said quietly. "But there is a time for everything. No man is an island, Harry. This is not, and never was, a fight for one man. I imagine that you will find thousands of people willing to help you, if only you let them. You must make your own judgments now, but there will always be someone to support you."

And with that, Dumbledore vanished.

Harry stared, openmouthed, at the blank portrait. But it clearly wasn't the first time Dumbledore had done this, because Professor McGonagall was looking at him again.

"Well, Mr. Potter?"

Harry sighed. Dumbledore had, very obviously, just told him that it was all right to divulge the information they had gleaned to Professor McGonagall. And if Dumbledore thought it was right, then how could he disagree?

"Horcruxes," he said. Her eyes immediately narrowed; apparently she had heard of them before. "The night Professor Dumbledore died, we went out to find a Horcrux."

"So it's true," she said, sounding more resigned than surprised. She, like so many others, knew more than she had been letting on. "You- Voldemort made Horcruxes?"

Harry nodded, grimacing. "Seven of them. Well, six of them, really. The seventh one is himself. Professor Dumbledore told me he'd found the location of another Horcrux, and asked me if I wanted to go with him. I did."

"And you got one?" she asked tensely.

Harry took a deep breath before answering. "No," he said heavily. "We got a fake. Someone named R.A.B. had already taken the real one and left a fake one in its place."

"A _fake?_" she said incredulously. "That's impossible."

Harry shook his head. "Professor Dumbledore already destroyed another one," he said. "That's why his hand was black and dead-looking. Riddle's diary was a third, which I destroyed five years ago."

Professor McGonagall looked perturbed. "And the other ones?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "Professor Dumbledore thought they might be things the Founders once owned. The Horcrux we were looking for was a locket, an heirloom of Salazar Slytherin's, and the one Professor Dumbledore destroyed was Slytherin's too – a ring. I don't know about the other ones."

"The Founders," Professor McGonagall mused. "Something of the Founders'…"

"He said it probably isn't anything of Gryffindor's," Harry added. "The sword and the Sorting Hat are his only remaining relics, and they've both been here for a long time."

"Yes," she said slowly, nodding. "That would make sense... I'm afraid I can't think of anything at the moment, but I'm sure Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw had some fairly important artifacts that could have fallen into You- Voldemort's hands." She suddenly turned to look at him straight on. "Thank you for telling me, Harry," she said softly. "For trusting me. The Order will do as much as it can to help you."

He nodded, noticing that she didn't ask him whether or not she could tell the rest of the Order about the Horcruxes, but he figured she knew which ones were reliable. And it felt much better to have the weight of the secret off his shoulders.

She let out a long sigh and rubbed her temples. "The other thing I brought you here for is your N.E.W.T.s," she said. "Especially after what you have told me, I believe that your exams should not be your first priority this year. However," she added severely as Harry began smiling, "this does not mean you are exempt from attending class and completing your homework. There are many valuable things you have yet to learn."

Harry nodded. He had been wondering how he would bring up the subject of N.E.W.T.s to her, but seeing as she'd brought it up for him, he had one less problem to worry about. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

"Which brings me to my last point," Professor McGonagall said, taking a deep breath. "Dumbledore has repeatedly made it his point to tell the Order that all matters concerning you take precedence over any other issue. Given that this consists, as of now, of locating and destroying these Horcruxes and defeating Y- Voldemort, we think it best that you begin taking private lessons."

Harry sat up a bit straighter, listening intently. "Although the Order will do all it can to keep you safe," she continued, "I'm sure that you know we will not always be able to help you. We believe, therefore, that it is in your best interests to begin learning more advanced magic, including nonverbal spells."

"Yeah," Harry said, trying to keep his eagerness from showing too much. "I've been reading up on some useful curses this summer."

"Well, that's a good start," Professor McGonagall said approvingly. "We will be sending you owls periodically to arrange dates and times. Members of the Order will take turns teaching you."

"What about Ron and Hermione?" Harry asked. "Can they come too?"

"If they wish," she answered. "And in addition to spells, we would prefer that you resume learning Occlumency."

Harry looked down guiltily. It hadn't _really_ been his fault for ditching it. Honestly, who had Dumbledore been kidding? Snape teaching Harry was like a wolf trying to teach a rabbit to hunt. But he _did _want to learn Occlumency. It would block Voldemort and any future nightmares, for one, but being able to barricade his mind would also prevent Voldemort from inviting himself into his thoughts, especially wayward ones about Ginny.

"We would also prefer that you learn it _properly_ this time," she said sternly. "I doubt you'll find it pleasurable, having Y- Voldemort reading you like a picture book."

"Yes, professor," Harry said solemnly. He'd do it right this time around, especially with a more sincere teacher.

"I believe that's all for now," Professor McGonagall declared. A rare smile lighted her face as she looked at him. "You may leave, Mr. Potter."

* * *

Harry related everything McGonagall had told him to Ron and Hermione in Herbology. 

"Oh my God, Harry, that's great!" Hermione squealed when he'd finished, earning herself a glare from Professor Sprout. "I told you she'd understand," she said in quieter tones.

"I can't _believe _she let you off N.E.W.T.s," Ron said, looking disgruntled. He flicked his finger at the Fanged Whikklepod before him, which promptly tried to bite his finger off.

"She didn't _let him off,_" Hermione reproached. "They're just not top priority."

"Which essentially means he doesn't have to study," Ron retorted.

"You're missing the entire point, Ron," Hermione said angrily. "He's not being excused from anything, and even if he was, it wouldn't be so that he could go and stuff himself with Chocolate Frogs and Cauldron Cakes."

"Because Sugar Quills are a lot better," Harry put in, making Ron grin. Hermione turned her glare on Harry. "Er, anyway," he continued hastily, changing the subject, "what've you two been doing?"

But Professor Sprout had approached their table, and the three of them hastily abandoned the discussion as they took up the pretense of studiously examining their plant specimens.

"We tried to find out where Hagrid went," Hermione said in an undertone as Professor Sprout walked back out of earshot, "but no one's seen him."

"And there're already rumors going around about you, mate," Ron said, attempting to prevent his Fanged Whikklepod from strangling Harry's.

"Rumors?" Harry demanded as he seized his own Fanged Whikklepod and struggled to pull it away from Ron's. "What rumors?"

"Not bad ones," Hermione assured him hurriedly, donning a pair of dragonhide gloves before joining the fray.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"They're…er, well – "

"Don't be a prat, Ron," Hermione sniffed. "All the girls are talking about you. They think – well, they think you're cute."

Ron stuck his finger down his throat and pretended to gag. Harry stared at her.

"_Cute?"_ Harry stipulated. "Me? I'm not – don't they have better things to talk about?"

"Apparently not," Ron said, smirking. "Honestly, I dunno what they see in you…"

"I don't either!" Harry said in consternation. With a last great effort, he managed to wrench his Fanged Whikklepod away from Ron's, only to have them both go after his fingers. "Does Ginny know?"

"Probably not. They're most likely keeping quiet around her, especially since most of these girls are in her year," Hermione said.

Ron shook his head. "They're all mental. What girl in her right mind would fancy you?"

"Your sister," Harry retorted, holding the fanged part away from him as Hermione tied up the roots.

"I repeat: What girl in her right mind would fancy you?" Ron sniggered.

"The point is moot," Hermione said, turning to help Ron with his roots. "But you should really be more careful, Harry. Like I've said before, you've never been more fanciable. You just might have girls tailing you to get a glimpse of you in the loo."

Ron cracked up, nearly losing his grip on the fangs.

"Shut up, you," Harry growled at him. "And wipe that bloody smirk off your face."

* * *

Up Next: The first Horcrux and stage one of Harry's revenge. 

Humor is not one of our strong points. Forgive us for that ending. And please, say something. Anything. Everything you've ever wanted to blurt anonymously to the world. :)


	8. And Accusations

Sorry about the delay, folks!

Encouragement helps us through our plight,   
And although the lack is still a fright,  
We would like to extend our heartfelt thanks  
For all the wonderful reviews you write. :)  
(Including - _especially _- the constructive criticism!)

We'd also like to thank this site for eating our formatting for breakfast...

* * *

**…And Accusations** – _"If all that is good considers you evil, are you?" – Godslayer, Mercedes Lackey_

The month of November blew in with a ferocious howl and a mighty gust of snow, coating every exposed object in a heavy sheet of sparkling white. No one dared venture outside for fear of getting lost in the whirling ice storms. The first Hogsmeade trip of the year had been cancelled, but no one seemed to care much.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione definitely had enough on their minds. Every free moment they had was spent practicing new spells and attempting to decipher the apparent gibberish their teachers had decided to start handing out for homework. Fortunately, it wasn't so much bookwork and essays they had to write up this year; seventh year classes were more focused on the practical and theoretical sides of magic. The three of them reserved a corner of the common room each evening and occupied it for the better part of the night to interpret Transfiguration theories or discuss the effects of combining spells or the usage of a Hover Charm instead of a Levitation Charm.

"I don't get it," Ron grumbled, glaring at _Alternative Charms for the Advanced Caster. _"They have the same effect and – "

"No, they don't," Hermione interrupted irritably, without even looking up from her search for an Obliteration Charm. Ron waited expectantly for her to continue, but after Hermione flipped to the back of the book, it was evident she'd forgotten about him.

"Well?" Ron said.

"Well what?" Hermione said absently. "It _says _it should be on page 168…"

"Try 186," Harry suggested. He had been making an effort to spend at least ten minutes each day clearing his mind of all emotion; his Occlumency lessons had started the week before. The subject, which apparently fell under the jurisdiction of the new Transfiguration teacher, was going fairly well. The young, lively man had nearly been as much of a hit as Professor Drake, and he was a damn sight nicer than Snape.

"186?" Hermione asked.

"Sometimes the books are messed up."

"Hey!" Ron said loudly, plainly annoyed at being ignored.

"What?" Hermione snapped, her eyes glued to her book.

"Aren't you going to tell me what differences the effects of a Hover Charm and a Levitation Charm have?"

"I think seventeen is a good age to start figuring things out for yourself," Hermione said exasperatedly. "It's all _in _the book, just look it up…Oh, here it is! Thanks, Harry."

Harry grunted in response, eyes shut. Ron made a face at her before turning back to his book, glaring at it as though it had been very rude to him. There followed a huffy sort of silence, which Harry was grateful for; it was much easier to concentrate when there wasn't bickering in the background. It wasn't long, though, before Ron opened his mouth again.

"Slughorn having any of his parties this year?" he asked in what he probably thought was a casual tone; Harry cracked one eye open and caught him glancing at Hermione.

Of course, he wouldn't voice any objections if Ron and Hermione ever started going out together; on the contrary, he'd be quite happy for them. But it _would _turn out to be uncomfortable if they split up for some reason or another, which would surely wreck any semblance of friendship between them. Either way, Harry thought it was high time the two of them acknowledged that they fancied each other; there wasn't time for indecision anymore.

"I hope not," Hermione said, still not deigning to give Ron a glance. "They weren't quite my idea of a Friday night."

Ron looked very put out. "But maybe – "

"I don't think McGonagall would allow them," Harry said, getting up off the sofa. Clearing his mind was getting easier and easier. He picked up _Advanced Transfiguration _and found the page they'd been studying during class, and attempted once again to work out how the witch in Figure A was flicking her wrist. "Too much going on."

"Not even for Christmas?" Ron didn't bother hiding his disappointment anymore.

Hermione finally looked up; whether it was to face Ron, or because she'd finished with the Obliteration Charm, Harry couldn't tell. "Who knows?" she shrugged, clearly uninterested, as she set her book down. "But party or not, we can't go – your mum's invited us to your house for Christmas, remember?"

"Oh yeah – yeah!" Ron said, his eyes lighting up. "And Fred and George'll be there – "

"It's a perfect place to study and practice," Hermione said severely.

Harry rolled his eyes at this as he discarded his book; Figures A-D were all too ambiguous. "That sounds fun," he said tonelessly.

Hermione gave him a withering look. "It will be. Now don't you have a Charms theory to comprehend?"

* * *

"…Despite the persistent rumors flying about the mysterious disappearance of Mr. Hayes of Durham, Ministry of Magic officials have recently determined that he had merely gotten drunk at a local pub, stumbled into the next town over, and spent the night in a horse stable. He has been restored to his home and is in fine condition. Although he declined to comment on his escapade, he assures the public that it had nothing to do with Death Eaters." 

With a loud _humph,_ Hermione looked up in disgust from the morning's issue of the Daily Prophet, though Harry couldn't tell whether her condescension was directed at the article or at Ron, who had nearly fallen off the bench in his mirth.

"Honestly," she muttered, giving the paper an irritated ruffle. "Don't they have better things to report on? Death Eaters are rampaging the country and they fill half a column about some crazy drunken codger…"

Harry remained silent as he shoveled waffles into his mouth. Whatever frustration Hermione had felt about the Ministry and the reporters of the Daily Prophet in the past had grown about tenfold in the last month, and nearly anything could set her off.

"It's called comic relief, Hermione, ever heard of it?" Ron said as he sat back up, still weak from his bout of self-strangling laughter.

"There's a certain time for everything, including comic relief, but this wasn't one of them," Hermione snapped.

"You're just too snippy to appreciate humor," Ron said matter-of-factly.

Harry could see that Hermione wasn't listening – her eyes were scanning the paper so fast he reckoned they were being powered by motors.

"What'd you find?" Ron asked, his demeanor all seriousness once he noted Hermione's expression. She ignored him and kept on reading, eyes narrowing as she went further and further on.  
"Bloody hell," Ron said at last, snatching the paper from her hands to see for himself what was so shocking.

"Ron, no – "

Ron held the paper out of her reach. "Come off it, Hermione, I just want to _see…_"

Harry took one look at Hermione's dismayed face and leaned over Ron's shoulder as he began to read aloud.

--

**THE CHOSEN ONE: HOW MUCH RESPONSIBILITY SHOULD HE TAKE?**

With the recent death of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, at the hands of former colleague Severus Snape, the entire Wizarding world has been abuzz. Many families are shocked that such an esteemed and influential man could be attacked within his own school. The incident has prompted many parents to withhold their children from attending Hogwarts this year. "If the Headmaster can be attacked by a teacher, then how do we know our kids are safe? I'm not risking it," said Mrs. Madley of Shropshire, mother of would-be fourth-year Laura Madley.

But the school environment is not the only thing the Wizarding people are worried about. Reports of sacked towns and village raids have increased threefold in the past month. Hit Wizards and Aurors are on constant alert as Death Eaters roam the country, supposedly under the direction of their resurrected leader, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Sightings of the Dark Mark have also increased, striking fear and apprehension into the hearts of countless citizens.

Although this scene is eerily evocative of the First War, some people believe that this Second War will be different. Known for over a decade as the Boy Who Lived and now dubbed "The Chosen," Harry Potter is considered by well over half the population to be the imminent savior of the world and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's true nemesis. But the future hero of the Wizarding world is still in school. So just how much of this war is he responsible for, and how much is the Ministry of Magic?

"He's still just a kid," Mr. Johnston of Cheshire told reporters. "People might think he can save the world, but we can't expect so much from a seventeen-year-old. It's the Ministry that should be stepping up." Mr. Carpenter of Suffolk believes differently: "People are dying here, every day, because nothing is _happening. _No one's working to prevent the destruction and the killing. The boy's the bloody Chosen. He should be out here, bloody _doing _something, instead of sitting all nice and cozy inside that school." Mrs. Flynn, a recent victim of a Death Eater raid, echoes these sentiments. "He survived the Killing Curse once, didn't he? And they say he's defied You-Know-Who twice as many times as the most powerful wizard in the world. Well, if he's so bloody brilliant, let's see him _do _something about this!" Mr. Kindlon, a former Auror, is firmly against these arguments. "We all remember the days of the First War. Even the best Aurors, the greatest Hit Wizards, and the finest witches and wizards of the century couldn't stand against You-Know-Who. It's ridiculous and immature to expect a student, no matter how extraordinary, to face him. If he really _is_ the only hope we have, we shouldn't be sending him out into hell willy-nilly."

Whoever the populace deems accountable for the devastation, one thing is certainly true: The effects of the Second War are spreading across the country, and spreading fast. With the threat of more danger and violence and The Chosen's capabilities uncertain, the question still lingers in the minds of all: Exactly _who _can the Wizarding world count on to end this war?

--

Ron allowed his hands to drop the paper into his lap. The chatter of the Great Hall slowly faded from Harry's mind.

_If he's so bloody brilliant, let's see him _do _something about this!_

_People are dying here, every day._

"Harry," Hermione said tentatively. "Harry?"

Harry turned around slowly to look at her. He could hear what they all but said aloud: _It's because of you._ Everything was because of him. The raids, the killing, the looting, the destruction and fear and chaos – it was all because of him. Because he wasn't _doing _anything. He sat here in the castle, day after day, safe and oblivious to the suffering and pain. He could envision children screaming in his head as they watched their parents being murdered, could imagine the Death Eaters laughing as they burned down houses.

They were right; they were all right. He should be out there, fighting, searching, _doing _something. Even though he knew, in a place lost deep in his mind, that he couldn't afford to go about acting as if this was just another ordinary school year, it was hard to concentrate when comfort and indulgence surrounded him.

He thought about the Horcruxes every day, every waking moment, but what good did _thinking _do? Thinking never solved anything; _actions _did. And even if he did find the Horcruxes and started destroying them, nobody would know about it. Keeping it a secret meant that he would still be blamed for not trying, charged with lounging around and hiding.

He knew that the Death Eaters – and, ultimately, Voldemort – were slaughtering to get at him - to get this sort of reaction from people. They were killing and destroying as a lure, because they knew as well as any that he wouldn't be able to stay hiding for long while others died for him. They knew that _he _knew he could stop the murdering, the ravaging, the torturing, if he just turned himself in. It was their plan, and it was working.

* * *

He drifted from class to class the rest of the day, only half-listening to what his teachers were saying. Hermione took down most of the notes for him as he sat in the back of classrooms, staring hard into space, plagued by the accusations, the guilt. There were so many things he _should _have done – try to find Voldemort, try to find a Horcrux, figure out the Death Eaters' next move. He was wasting his time, learning about Snapping Gorbellums and Altering Charms and Fulbert the Fearful. 

He met Ginny in the corridor after his last free period. She said something to her friends before breaking away from them, weaving through the crowd until she reached him. Dropping her bag on the floor, she pulled him into a tight hug

"Hermione told me," she whispered in his ear. "Don't listen to them. You're doing all you can.

He closed his eyes and rested his chin on her shoulder for a moment, breathing in her flowery scent. She squeezed his hand as she released him

"I'll see you later, okay?" she said, picking up her bag. "You should get to class, too." She smiled at him before hurrying away toward the stairs

He sighed and made his way toward Potions, where Slughorn announced that they would begin brewing Wit-Sharpening Potions. Harry reached down into his bag and pulled out _Advanced Potion-Making. _It was the Half-Blood Prince's copy – he tossed it on his desk and glared at it.

Slughorn began writing down instructions on the board. Harry sluggishly got up to gather his ingredients and accidentally bumped into Theodore Nott, one of the few remaining seventh-year Slytherins. But instead of making some snarky comment, as Harry had expected, he murmured a quick apology and continued on his way. Harry stared at his back until Hermione prodded him. "Did you see that?" he demanded.

"See what?" Hermione asked, directing him toward the cabinet where the sneezewort was kept

"Nott," Harry said, jerking his head at the weedy Slytherin. "He just passed up a perfect chance at taunting a Gryffindor.

"I always thought he was one of the more decent ones," Hermione said musingly as she picked out several herbs. She passed some to Harry before closing the cabinet back up. "Besides, he's outnumbered now.

This was true; compared to the usual number of Gryffindors, there were only four Slytherins left. But still, it wasn't quite like a Slytherin to passively face a Gryffindor. _And_ he had _apologized._

"Stop worrying about it," Hermione told him as she began crushing her beetle wings. "If you think about it, it's actually a good thing. House unity, you know?

"Well, yeah…" Of course he wanted House unity, but this was so abrupt. He had expected fierce resistance from the Slytherins. Then again, just because one boy had gotten over his bloody Slytherin ego didn't mean they all had

He turned back to his potion and toiled over it wordlessly for the rest of the period, glancing only sparingly at his book. The potion soon became the desired shade of puce, but Harry couldn't detect the "distinctly invigorating odour" Slughorn had said it would have. Sighing, he went back and reread the directions, checking to see he'd done all the steps correctly

By the end of class, he and Hermione were the only ones who received a satisfactory nod for their potions

"When did you suddenly get so good at potions?" Ron asked sullenly, looking down upon his molasses-like potion with a dour face

Harry shrugged. "Mum's genes finally kicked in, I reckon.

"You can't inherit potion-making skills," Hermione said, shaking her head as she packed up her bag

Ron raised an eyebrow at her. "Why not? If Harry's mum was good at it, why can't she have passed them down?

"Wonder what happened with you, then," Hermione smirked. "Your parents are both decent.

"Hey!" Ron said indignantly, his face going red

"It was a joke, Ron," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Anyhow, we've both got patrol duty tonight. Let's go.

"Patrol duty?" Ron groaned

Hermione put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "You're still a prefect, aren't you?" she demanded. "Now hurry up, or we'll be late.

"All right, all right…

"We'll see you later, Harry," Hermione said, waving to him as she towed Ron down the corridor

"See you," Harry called back. He watched them disappear around the corner, still bickering, and let his hand drop to his side. Sighing, he slowly turned around and started toward Gryffindor tower. The corridors were nearly empty already, and his footsteps echoed and rang in his ears

He turned around the corner and nearly ran into a girl with large, dreamy eyes and radish earrings dangling from her ears

"L-Luna!" Harry stuttered in surprise as Luna's books fell to the floor. He hurriedly bent down to help her pick them up

"Hello, Harry," Luna said in her usual vague tone, piling books into her arms. "I haven't seen you in a while.

"Er, yeah," Harry said, placing _Beastes of Magicale Mythe _on top of her stack. He suddenly noticed a folded copy of the _Daily Prophet _under her arm. "Read that, have you?" he asked with forced casualness, nodding at the newspaper as they set off down the corridor.

"Most of it," she answered, shifting the books so that their weight was on her hip. "There was an article about you."

He nodded, now accustomed to her directness. "Yeah.

"What do you think about it?

"Er…what?

"The article. Do you think you're responsible for what's happening?

Harry stared at her, but she didn't seem to notice.

"My dad doesn't," she went on calmly, as if she hadn't just asked if he thought he should be accused of negligent murder. "He says nothing's your fault – or anybody else's fault either, really. Except Voldemort, of course."

"I dunno," Harry said darkly, looking down at his shoes. "I don't think it's my responsibility to protect everyone, but… Well, everyone expects me to be doing stuff. Everyone expects me to be the hero, to go and just kill Voldemort already. But it's not that easy," he said angrily, wishing there was something handy to kick. "I suppose I could go out there and tell Voldemort to come and face me, but what good would that do? I don't know anything; not enough to kill him. I'm trying as hard as I can, but that's not good enough for anybody."

Luna was quiet for a moment, and they walked along in silence. Harry scuffed the toe of his trainers on the floor, his hands shoved in his pockets. "It doesn't matter," she said at last, "what other people think. As long as _you _know what's right, why should you let what other people say make you doubt yourself?"

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. Why _should _he care? They didn't know what was going on. They were just complaining because they didn't know the truth, the whole story.

"People always say what they want," Luna said. "Our neighbors used to call my mum crazy, and told her she should be sent to the loony bin. But she didn't care, because she knew that Dad and I didn't think that way. She knew that her family thought she was the most wonderful woman in the world.

They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who was chatting with her friend Violet over a cup of tea. "Oh," Harry said, furrowing his brows. "Er, isn't Ravenclaw Tower the other way? You didn't have to come all the way over here."

"There's a shortcut over this way," Luna said, smiling serenely at him. "It was nice talking with you.

"Hey, er, Luna," Harry said quickly as she turned to leave. She looked back at him, her pensive eyes unabashedly settling on his hesitant gaze. "I – uh, thanks. Thanks for…that.

"You're welcome," Luna said. There was a hint of amusement in her voice.

* * *

"So why didn't Horatio the Heroic just Apparate? It should've been easy if he was so great and all." 

"If you ask me that one more time, I'm going to shove this quill – "

"All right, all right," Ron said hastily, retreating from an irascible Hermione with _The Dark Arts Outsmarted _clutched in his hands. "I was just curious," he muttered to Harry.

"It was 'cause the pyramids had enchantments on them, like the ones at Hogwarts, so you can't Apparate in or out," Harry supplied. He was sitting cross-legged in one the armchairs in front of the common room fire, putting on the pretense of practicing Occlumency while actually stealing glances at Ginny, who was perched on the arm of the couch writing an essay for Herbology and humming to herself.

He felt incredibly restless, being stuck inside with nothing to do but read the same sentences over and over again and watch Ron and Hermione quarrel over whether Merwyn the Malicious or Grimwald the Gray was the better caster of the Quintapeddling Curse. _The Legacy: The Founders' Roade to Hogwarts _lay open on his lap, but he'd given up trying to read it about an hour ago. Aside from the ubiquitous '_e_'s at the end of every word, he was getting thoroughly annoyed at the lack of relevant information in the library's books.

Practicing spells and reviewing class notes took his mind off things for a while, but the problem of the Horcruxes always came back to beat him around the head. The fact that people were _dying _because of him still stung, even though it had already been four days since Luna had soothed his anguished conscience. Nobody – not him, not Ron or Hermione or McGonagall or the rest of the Order – had managed to find any Horcruxes yet, and here he was stealing glances at a girl while pretending to learn Occlumency. Granted, she was a very _pretty _girl…

He shook his head, grunting in frustration. He _always _got sidetracked.

But then again, he wasn't the only one.

Ron's eyes kept abandoning _The Dark Arts Outsmarted _to find what was apparently a much more interesting target, which was currently scanning a book twice the size of an encyclopedia. Harry caught Ginny's eye, and together they smirked at Ron's oh-so-obvious stare. It was a wonder he wasn't drooling.

At the slightest movement, he'd snap his eyes back to his own book and give a hackneyed cough.

"Are you all right, Ron?" Hermione asked once, after a particularly guilty-sounding bout of coughing. Harry had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing. "You don't need a glass of water or anything?"

"Er - what?" His face was extremely red; across the room on the couch, Ginny had her first in her mouth. "Uh, no! No, it's nothing, just…you know…coughing…"

Hermione looked unconvinced. "Positive?"

"Yeah, yeah," Ron said airily, nodding with a big fake smile. Hermione rolled her eyes and went back to her book. Harry tried to compose himself and flipped through a couple pages of _The Legacy._

"Well, I'm done for tonight," Ginny said, letting loose a yawn. Gathering her parchment, quill, and inkbottle, she bade them all goodnight and kissed Harry on the cheek before disappearing up the stairs.

"I think I'll go to bed, too," Hermione said with a sigh, closing her book. "Are you two going to stay here?"

"Er, no," Ron said hastily, stuffing his half-written essay into a book as he leapt to his feet. "Really tired today."

Hermione looked pointedly at the parchment sticking out of Ron's book, but thought better of mentioning it. "You coming too, Harry?"

"Guess so," Harry shrugged, shoving his books into his bag.

"Good night," Hermione said as she headed to up to the girls' dormitories.

"'Night," Harry called as he and Ron climbed the stairs to their own dorms. Ron kept looking back over his shoulder and nearly ran into the door.

Inside the cozy circular room, Neville, Dean, and Seamus were already asleep. Harry dropped his bag at the foot of his bed and changed into his pajamas.

"Night, Ron," he whispered before pulling his curtains shut. There was a muffled reply as Harry took off his glasses and placed them on the bedside table. With a sigh, he lay back in his bed, sinking back into the soft covers…

Harry dreamed he was flying a Quidditch match against Slytherin, chasing the Snitch alongside Malfoy, who kept shouting snide comments about Sirius; Harry reached out and punched him in the face. Malfoy slowly fell off his broom, falling in a cloud of rippling robes to the ground, which suddenly seemed very, very far away… Harry looked back toward the Snitch, only to find that it had tripled in size and its wings transformed into giant claws. It reversed direction and whizzed through the air, now chasing _him…_ He pointed his Firebolt straight down without a second thought, urging it on faster and faster until his eyes watered…and then Ginny was coming toward him on her own broom, grinning… But before he could reach her, Malfoy reappeared from below and grabbed her, careening into the air with her, up, up, away… Harry could heard her screaming his name, and he wrenched his Firebolt around, ready to shoot back up, but he'd forgotten about the giant Snitch; it slammed into him, and he flew off his broom to land painfully on the ground, where he found Snape leering at him… Someone wrenched his hands behind his back, binding them tightly with a cord, and suddenly he was surrounded by masses of black-hooded people chanting something he couldn't understand. Bellatrix Lestrange stepped forward, sneering at him… _"You've met your end, little Potty, it's time you rejoin the worthless bastard you call your godfather in hell…the devil's been waiting for you…"_ He couldn't move, couldn't _breathe_… And then someone lit his head on fire…

"Harry!"

Harry's eyes snapped open, quite as involuntarily as if someone had tied strings to his eyelids and yanked them up. He found himself staring up into a face surrounded by a large mass of bushy hair. There was a hand over his mouth that prevented him from screaming – and breathing.

"Harry's it's me!" said a voice, which Harry soon recognized as Hermione's. His forehead felt damp, like he'd just stepped out of the shower. Hermione slowly took her hand off his mouth and he lay there, looking up at her in exasperation and breathing heavily.

"Hermione, what are you doing here?" he demanded quietly, noticing it was still dark outside. The dream was already fading away, leaving nothing but soft murmurs and cackles in his mind. He reached for his glasses. "What time is it?"

"It's five – but that's not important," Hermione said impatiently, sitting down on his bed. "I just thought of something."

"And it was so urgent that you had to wake me up at five?" Harry asked, feeling extremely disgruntled.

"Yes, it was," Hermione said firmly.

Harry's curtains were suddenly swept aside and Ginny was there, dragging a grumbling Ron behind her.

"This better be good," Ron grumbled as he fell face-first into the foot of Harry's bed.

"It is, now move over," Ginny growled, shoving Ron's feet to one side as she climbed up to sit next to Harry.

Harry looked from her to Hermione and back to her in bewilderment. "What's going on?"

"We think we've found a Horcrux," she whispered.

"A Horcrux?" Ron said, lifting his head up.

"Not so loud!" Ginny hissed.

"No, it's all right, I cast a Muffling Charm," Hermione assured her.

"A Horcrux?" Harry repeated in disbelief, his dream completely forgotten. "You found a Horcrux?"

"We _think _we found a Horcrux," Hermione corrected.

"How?" Ron asked incredulously.

"It just sort of…came up," Ginny said, shrugging. "Hermione and I were thinking about the fake locket, and, well…remember when we were at Grimmauld Place two years ago?"

Harry nodded stiffly.

"I remembered that one day, when we were cleaning the place up, that we found some weird things in one of the glass cabinets. There was a box full of Wartcap powder and this creepy music box, stuff like that. And there was a locket. None of us could open it so we chucked it."

Realization dawned on Harry. "You think…that might've been the real locket?" he asked slowly. He reached over Ginny and opened the drawer under his bedside table. He lifted the fake locket out of the drawer and held it up.

"But we can't remember what we did with it," Hermione said softly. "Sirius might've thrown it out."

_Damn. _"But how would Sirius have had it?" he asked.

"Not Sirius," Ginny said, shaking her head. "His family - his brother, specifically."

"R.A.B., Harry," Hermione elaborated. "Sirius' brother's name was Regulus. And he was a Death Eater."

_Regulus Black. Sirius' brother was R.A.B.?_

"He died young, remember?" Ginny said. "He might've had a change of heart and tried to back out, taking the locket with him, but he was killed before he could destroy it."

"How would Regulus have been able to get the Horcrux in the first place, though?" Ron asked. "You-Know-Who can't have been telling just anyone where he hid them."

"Well, maybe someone let it slip. But there's only one way to check, isn't there?" Harry said grimly. Taking a deep breath, he called out, "Kreacher!"

There was a blinding flash of light, a loud cracking noise, and a sudden weight on Harry's knees.

"Harry Potter sir!" squeaked a familiar voice.

"Dobby?" Harry said dubiously.

"Filthy Mudblood is near Kreacher," another voice hissed.

_Well, there's Kreacher._

"Shut up, you," Ron snarled.

"Dobby, why are you here?" Harry asked. He could now make out the small shapes of the two house-elves, both of whom had hold of the other's ears as they stood on Harry's knees.

"Kreacher is being naughty, sir, so I is watching him!" Dobby said, giving one of Kreacher's ears a sharp tug.

Kreacher screeched something incoherent as he bit at Dobby's elbow, prompting Dobby to flail his little feet at Kreacher's stomach.

"_Silencio,"_ Ginny muttered, waving her wand at the scrabbling elves, while Hermione murmured, _"Petrificus totalus."_

Kreacher's hands snapped to his sides, but as he still had hold of Dobby's ears, Dobby fell forward with him, yelling noiselessly. Hermione freed Dobby's ears and moved Kreacher off Harry's knees.

Dobby stepped over to stand in front of Ginny, looking sheepish.

"_Finite incantatem,"_ Hermione said, pointing at Dobby.

"Dobby is sorry, sir," he said shamefacedly. "Dobby is supposed to be watching Kreacher, sir, because he is always hiding and not doing his work."

_Sounds like Kreacher,_ Harry thought darkly. "Thanks, Dobby," he said, managing to give the downcast house-elf a smile. Dobby beamed back at him. "Er – if you don't mind, we've got to talk to Kreacher for a moment."

Dobby nodded enthusiastically. "Of course, sir. Dobby will leave Harry Potter and his friends now."

There was another loud _crack _and Dobby was gone. Harry took a deep breath and turned to Kreacher, who was scowling at him.

"Kreacher," Harry began, carefully keeping his voice devoid of emotion, "Go to twelve, Grimmauld Place and get Slytherin's locket immediately. Bring it to me as soon as you find it. Don't make any attempt to communicate with anyone other than me." His eyes hardened as he watched the crazed hatred burn in the house-elf's eyes. "I know you know what I'm talking about and I know you've hid it in there, so there's no use lying. _Finite incantatem. _Go."

Kreacher glowered at Harry for a split second before disappearing.

Harry slumped back against the wall and breathed out a long sigh. "Now, we wait."

He felt a small hand slip under his covers and cover his tightly clenched fist. He uncurled his fingers to interlace them with hers. Hermione and Ron sat side by side at the foot of his bed, leaning against the bedposts. Tacit questions hung unspoken in the air, questions Harry would've given his Firebolt to know the answers to.

_Is it the real Horcrux?_

_How do you destroy it?_

_What happens when it's destroyed?_

They didn't have to wait long for Kreacher's return. He reappeared before Harry with a sharp noise like a gunshot, something gold and glinting clasped in his long fingers. Veins stood out on his thin little arms as he jerkily raised his hand up.

Harry narrowed his eyes as their gazes met; Harry's full of grim determination, the elf's brimming with loathing and rage.

"_Hermione kept telling us to be nice to him."_

"_She was quite right, Harry. I warned Sirus when we adopted twelve, Grimmauld Place as our headquarters that Kreacher must be treated with kindness and respect."_

Harry held out his hand, which Kreacher dropped the locket into. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione learned over to look at it, comparing it with the fake one.

"That's it," Ron said, squinting. "That's the one we saw."

"Is it a Horcrux?" Hermione whispered.

Harry frowned down at it. The thing was, he didn't know; his scar didn't hurt at all, and the locket felt like any ordinary locket. But the ornate _S _was there, engraved in the front, and if this wasn't it, he didn't know what was.

"I dunno," he said truthfully. "But I'm going to destroy it." He slid off his bed without waiting for a reaction, padding out to the center of the room. He slipped the fake Horcrux in his pocket and deposited the real one on the ground, a few feet before him.

A hand grabbed his arm, and he turned to see Hermione behind him, her eyes filled with worry. Over the top of her head, Ron's face mirrored her concern. Ginny stood beside him, her jaw clenched tightly.

"I have to do this," Harry said quietly.

"Why don't you make Kreacher do it?" Ron suggested darkly, glancing back at the old house-elf. He stood hunch-backed on Harry's bed, muttering inaudibly under his breath.

Hermione let go of Harry's arm as he turned to face him. "Kreacher, go back to the kitchens," he said, trying to keep as much distaste out of his voice as possible.

"Filthy brat," Kreacher hissed maliciously, eyes narrowed to slits. "Kreacher hopes the boy dies." He vanished without another word.

"You should've made him do it," Ron growled.

"No," Harry said, shaking his head as he turned back to the locket. "I have to do this." He motioned for the other three to step back, and Ron and Hermione did after a moment's hesitation. Ginny darted forward and flung her arms around his neck.

"Be careful," she whispered in his ear before slipping back into the shadows.

Harry studied the locket on the floor, blowing his cheeks out. Several of the books he'd read had given him a variety of spells designed to destroy and tear things apart. Of the ones he had practiced, he liked the Exploding Curse and Destructor Jinx best. But he was more confident with the Exploding Curse, especially after he had used it to reduce a large rock to a fine pile of ash.

He tried to push away the apprehension of now knowing what would happen as he raised his wand. Why should it be any different from Riddle's diary? That hadn't affected him at all. But it might've been the basilisk venom –

_Stop,_ he told himself sternly. He felt Ron, Hermione, and Ginny's eyes on the back of his head.

_Well. Here goes nothing._

Taking a deep breath, he pointed his wand at the shimmering gold locket, and shouted, _"Abolerevitum!" _(1)_  
_

A crackling jet of orange light burst from the tip of Harry's wand, with so much force that it made him stagger back. Curtains rippled as the curse streaked past, straight toward the Horcrux. But just as it was about strike, the locket began to glow a faint, eerie shade of blue. And the curse, instead of hitting the locket, spread around it in a gleaming orange ball, as if the Horcrux itself was attempting to repel it.

The strain in Harry's arms was building up to a point where it became painful; it was all he could do not to drop his wand. His spell was constricting around the locket, the orange pulsing around the blue. There was a faint howling in Harry's ears, like the wind was rushing in, and he felt cold – so cold… And then a voice spoke, dim and echoing, as if coming from centuries back in the past…

_You dare confront me, worthless scum?_ _You would dare to face Lord Voldemort?_ _I'm afraid it won't be so easy…_

The pain hit suddenly, like the proverbial anvil had just slammed into his head. He barely kept hold of his wand as he fell to his knees, eyes screwed shut as something tore into his head, ripping aparat his skull like his scar was the seam of his body, unraveling his skin, shredding him to worthless pieces. And there was laughter – cold, high-pitched laughter, lancing through the chaos, adding to the shrieks and screams that built up in volume and intensity. The pressure ws unbearable, excruciating –

There was an enormous flash of white light. Harry's wand fell from nerveless fingers as he pitched forward, lying motionless on the floor.

* * *

(1) _Abolerevitum _is the made-up incantation for our made-up spell, the Exploding Curse. Derived from the Latin _aboleo, _to destroy. 

Up next: Some enthusiastic students learn that love potions are one thing, and Ginny Weasley is quite another.

A review of just a single line  
keeps the authors doing fine. :)


	9. Muddled Monday

Thanks to all who reviewed, and sorry about the delays we've been having with updates...we'll probably get a couple more up this week since spring break has officially started. :)

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**Muddled Monday** – _"A big idea can go a long way, but a little idea always tends to go a little farther."_

Ginny Weasley hated whispers. Her brothers did it all the time, and her parents too, always excluding her because she was Baby Ginny Who Didn't Know Anything. Fred and George lightened up a bit when they discussed their new products, asking her opinion on various pranks and practical jokes, but that was about as much as she heard. Even Ron did it, the little prat. He and Harry and Hermione were always in the common room, heads together and whispering, whispering.

And now, all around her in the vast Great Hall, there were whispers floating through the air, drifting about her with maddening audibility.

"Did you hear what happened last night?"

"Harry Potter, sweet Merlin – "

" – almost died, they said – "

" – really powerful magic – "

" – huge explosion, did you feel it? Like an earthquake – "

She sat down beside Hermione and Ron, with Dean, Seamus, and Neville sitting across from them. They stared dully at the plates of food before them, ignoring the curious looks sent their way. The only reason they'd even left the Hospital Wing was because Madam Pomfrey had forced them to – "He won't get any better with the six of you sitting there gawping at him," she'd said, clucking her tongue as she shooed them out.

She'd known something had gone wrong as soon as Harry's spell failed to connect with the Horcrux. Hermione cried out as he fell to his knees, and the two of them tried to reach him, only to find that a magical wall had sprung up between them. She could only watch in horror as he screamed and writhed, the orange and blue lights flashing and twisting against each other. The sounds woke Dean, Seamus, and Neville, who all leapt up from their beds in shock.

And then there was the explosion, the blast of white light that engulfed Harry and the Horcrux. It blinded all of them, and knocked them off their feet.

The barrier had broken as soon as Harry collapsed. She had reached him first, only to find that he was unconscious. There was no sign of the Horcrux; not even a scorch mark on the floor. They took him straight to the Hospital Wing; Hermione cursed the Anti-Apparition Jinxes on the school as they dashed through the corridors.

Madam Pomfrey met them with an irritated look, although it soon turned to astonishment. She ushered them all inside, set Harry on the nearest bed and proceeded to look him over. Hermione bit her lip as she looked at Ginny and Ron; she was apparently unsure as to whether she should reveal what had happened with Dean, Seamus, and Neville still standing there. But Madam Pomfrey needed to know if she was going to find out if Harry would be okay; Hermione let out a shaky breath and began talking.

Professor McGonagall arrived shortly after, her face whiter than a sheet. Madam Pomfrey retold the events as she bustled around; she assured them all that he would be fine with a couple days' rest, that he was just unconscious after the shock and the force of the magic. Ginny noticed her hands shaking as she measured out a glass of green potion.

After she had forced the liquid down Harry's throat, Ginny and Ron pulled up a chair next to the bed and watched him anxiously as Professor McGonagall interrogated Hermione about the details. Despite Madam Pomfrey's orders, Dean, Seamus, and Neville insisted on staying. The three of them perched on the next bed over and looked at Harry in awe.

The boys soon fell asleep, as did Ron; Madam Pomfrey moved them to the other vacant beds and promptly disappeared into her office with Professor McGonagall. Ginny remained in her chair, holding Harry's cold hand tightly in hers. Hermione sat beside her, nervously wringing her hands as she looked down at Harry in despair.

"I should've known," she said quietly, misery evident in her voice. "I should've known something like this would happen. We shouldn't have told him, not before telling Professor McGonagall, or – or Lupin…"

Ginny offered no response. She'd feared something like this would happen, too, but what difference would it have made if they'd told somebody? Nobody else could have done it; Harry wouldn't have let them, first of all, and secondly, they would've probably died trying.

She reached over and brushed a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. His face was cold to the touch, too, not just his hands. She'd been slightly mollified at Madam Pomfrey's pronouncement that he'd be better in a few days, but to see him shivering so and hearing his shallow, ragged breathing was unnerving. Nothing would loosen the tension wound up in her body; she wouldn't be able to relax until he opened his eyes again.

She and Hermione had stayed up all night, ignoring Madam Pomfrey's pleading and ordering and coaxing them to rest. Harry showed no signs of improvement even past dawn, by which time he'd had two more doses of the green potion.

It was at this point that Madam Pomfrey adamantly refused to allow them to stay; she was about to threaten to take away House points if they didn't go down to breakfast. Ginny left only after making the nurse promise that they would be alerted the very instant he woke up.

"We should eat something," Hermione said uncertainly.

Ron looked up at her blankly. He had absently spooned some potatoes onto his plate but hadn't touched them. Seamus was picking at a piece of bread while Dean held a glass of juice in his hand. Neville and Ginny hadn't moved at all.

"I'm not hungry," Ginny said quietly.

"Me neither," Neville mumbled. His round face was pale.

Hermione looked around at the others, all of them unwilling to eat, and sighed. "Neither am I," she said heavily. After a moment, she added, "We better get to class, then."

They stood up and left the Great Hall, each one feeling the weight of dozens of inquisitive gazes on their backs. Not a word was spoken as they trudged up to Gryffindor Tower to get their things. Ginny parted ways with them as they climbed back out of the portrait hole; they had Potions while she had Transfiguration.

She sat in the back of the classroom, only half-hearing what Professor Blackthorn was saying about cross-species switches. Her fellow classmates looked at her sympathetically from time to time, and although she was sure Professor Blackthorn knew she wasn't listening, he didn't mention it.

By her third class, Charms, her exhaustion had caught up with her. Her partner for the Aguamenti Charm, a Hufflepuff named Brianna Decker, kept having to poke her every time Professor Flitwick passed by so she didn't nod off.

"Sorry," she muttered to Brianna after she found herself being jerked awake for the sixth time.

"It's all right," Brianna said kindly. She was a slim, quiet girl, more content to read and write than participate in any physical activities. Charms was one of her best subjects, and she had no problem making water spout from the tip of her wand.

Ginny stood up as soon as the class was dismissed and hurried out of the room, heading toward the girls' bathroom. She briefly entertained the notion of skipping Herbology, but she knew her absence would be immediately detected.

Just as she entered one of the stalls and locked the door, a group of girls walked into the bathroom, conversing loudly. Ginny instinctively clamped her mouth shut, listening intently to their discussion – which was about Harry.

"We can get him a card," one of them said. "I have a really pretty one I was going to give to Peter, but – "

"Ew, Peter? He's _so _weird."

"What_ever._ Anyway, did you hear what Kayla McKinney was saying? About what happened?"

"You're not _honestly _going to believe what Kayla McKinney says, are you?"

"Well no, obviously! I just overheard her telling someone that Harry – "

Ginny couldn't hear the rest of the sentence, as the speaker had dropped their voice to a low whisper. It didn't help that someone had turned the faucet on. She resisted the urge to snort – these girls couldn't be sixth or seventh years (she'd have recognized their voices) and yet here they were, apparently on a first-name basis with him. Harry didn't even _know _any younger girls; except maybe Romilda Vane, whose would have been immediately identifiable to Ginny.

"Love potion?" one of them exclaimed. The water was turned off. "What love potion? For who?"

"You know _who,_" another one said exasperatedly. "There's only one boy _worth _giving a love potion to in Hogwarts!"

"Not Peter, I reckon," a third sniggered.

"Harry Potter?" someone suggested.

"Duh!" Ginny could almost see the eye-rolling that would have accompanied the exclamation.

"You can't do that, he's going out with Ginny Weasley!"

_Damn right,_ Ginny thought fiercely. She thought about storming out right then, brandishing her wand at them and seeing their terrified looks – it would definitely be a balm for the tension that made her shoulders ache.

"He broke up with her last – "

"He did, but only because of You-Know-Who, and then they got back together before start of term."

"Well, Kayla says he's only going out with her because she spends half her time flat on her back."

Ginny barely kept the snarl of fury locked up inside; her fingers gripped her wand so tightly her arm shook. How _dare _those titchy little toerags even _think – _

"Oh my God, Harry would not do that!" one of them exclaimed in a thoroughly shocked voice.

"There you go, believing Kayla McKinney again."

"I didn't say I _believed _that – "

"Besides, Owen's sister, Demelza? She says they really love each other – haven't you seen the way Harry looks at her? And if I were you, I wouldn't get in Ginny Weasley's way – I've heard she's got a nasty Bag-Bogey Hex."

_You bet your arse,_ Ginny snarled inwardly as she heard their voices recede. She waited for a minute or two after they had left, silently cursing girls and love potions and wishing there was something handy to punch. She went to Herbology in the worst mood she'd been in all year.

* * *

Colin Creevey kept one eye on Ginny Weasley as they packed up their cauldrons, the other eye on Professor Slughorn. As soon as he opened his mouth to dismiss their class, Colin shot out of his seat and caught Ginny by the elbow before she could disappear, as she'd been doing after every class today. 

"Hey, Ginny," he said as brightly as he could. He'd never seen cheerful, passionate Ginny look so miserable before in his life. He was none too happy himself; he'd snuck by the Hospital Wing before Charms to see Harry, only to find him pale and motionless.

She looked up at him, her eyes vague and distant as the two of them pushed their way through the crowded corridors. "Oh, hey Colin."

"You, er...you all right?"

She shrugged. "I guess."

"Still nothing on Harry?"

She shook her head, lips stretched thin as she stared straight ahead. Colin thought she looked pretty done in.

"Ginny?" he began hesitantly. "You're not, uh, doing anything now, are you?" They had a free period now, and no classes after dinner either. He hoped she wouldn't use homework as an excuse to retreat into her dormitory; it would be much easier if she just followed him.

She furrowed her brows. "Not really," she said. "But – "

"Excellent," Colin said happily, grinning at her. "Come on, I've got something to show you."

He grabbed her hand and led her down several corridors and up a flight of stairs, despite her protests. She was thoroughly cross with him by the time they reached the seventh floor, and she was about to make good her threat to hex him into a purple jelly when he announced, "We're here."

Ginny looked up and down the empty corridor, face stony. The door had appeared in the wall by the time she realized where they were, and Colin dragged her into the Room of Requirement.

He grinned with satisfaction when he saw all the people inside; Demelza, Dennis, and Luna had managed to alert more people than he'd expected. His smile only grew wider as he saw Ginny's jaw drop.

"Colin," she said slowly. The conversations had stopped and everyone was looking at them. "What's going on?"

"This, Ginny," Colin said, unable to keep the excitement from seeping into his voice, "is everyone who wants to help Harry." He beamed at the gathering of students, ranging from sixth years to second years.

"We're Harry's fan club!" a second-year Ravenclaw piped up.

There was a strange expression on Ginny's face.

Colin went on hurriedly, "Everyone knows about Harry, right? Well we just found some people who said they'd like to help him, in any way they can. It started with me and Dennis and Luna, and then...well, it just grew, sort of."

"There's loads of people," Dennis said, from where he was standing in the back with a group of his friends. "We all want to help, but Colin thought it'd be better if you knew about it, too."

"How...how do you know?" Ginny asked faintly. Colin saw her eyes fall on Luna, who smiled and gave her a little wave.

"Know what?"

"About Harry. About...everything."

"C'mon, Ginny," Demelza Robins said, jumping off the table she'd been sitting on and striding over to put her arm around Ginny's shoulder. "You know secrets don't last long around here."

Ginny was still looking a bit dazed, so Colin told the group to go around and tell her their names. Most of them were Gryffindors, although a good number consisted of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. There were even three second-years from Slytherin, who tried not to shrink away from the baffled look Ginny gave them.

Colin knew nearly all of them by now; although some were sixth years and fifth years, the others were mostly Dennis' friends and Colin was having difficulty remembering all their names. He was sure Ginny recognized several faces – Demelza, Luna, and Brianna Decker, obviously, and Ritchie Coote, Jimmy Peakes, and Jack Sloper from Quidditch. Unfortunately, Romilda Vane had come too – she was twirling a strand of hair around her finger as she looked Ginny up and down. But _her _aside, Colin knew that even if Ginny didn't know them, they definitely knew her – she was probably the most popular girl in their year.

When the introductions had been finished, Ginny turned back to Colin, her eyes narrowed. He resisted the urge to step back as he gave her his most innocent smile.

"How much do you know?" she demanded. "And how did you find out?"

Colin held his hands up, palms out, to show that he didn't want to aggravate her. "Most of it," he said apologetically. "We know what happened last night – that Harry tried to destroy a Horcrux."

"A bit of You-Know-Who's soul," someone whispered, prompting some nervous coughs.

"And we know there's more of them out there," Demelza said. "We figured we could help him find them."

"But even if we can't, we'll at least help fight You-Know-Who," Colin added, and there were some cheers from the students. "We've already met a couple times to practice."

Ginny was frowning. "But why are you doing this?" she questioned. "I mean, I'm worried about him, too, but…some of you barely even _know _him."

"Because he's _Harry Potter,_" said a fourth-year girl, in a tone that clearly said she thought Ginny was stupid for asking such a question.

"Because he's the Boy Who Lived," a fifth-year boy said defiantly.

"Because he can _win_," Dennis declared.

"Because we're Harry's fan club!" several third-year girls said together.

Colin cringed. "We can't call it a fan club," he said, shaking his head. "Harry doesn't like that sort of thing. We can fight and stuff later, but what he needs, especially after what happened last night, is support. We can give it to him."

"This is kind of like that group he started two years ago, isn't it?" Jack Sloper asked, knitting his eyebrows. "The Defense Association?"

"No, it was Dumbledore's Army," Dennis supplied.

"Well, that was for Dumbledore," Colin said, seizing the idea that had popped into his head. "This is for Harry, right? We'll be Potter's Army." He looked to Ginny hopefully; they didn't necessarily need her approval or anything, but Colin had big hopes for this group, and if they wanted to be anywhere _near _competent, they'd need Ginny's help – having her support would also bring in Harry and other seventh years, most of whom Colin didn't know.

"Potter's Army," she repeated. "Colin, are you – are you all mental? This isn't some game. This is bloody _real! _Harry's been unconscious in the Hospital Wing for more than twelve bloody hours because he tried to destroy a Horcrux. He could have _died, _Colin."

He heard her voice break, saw her clench her fists in an attempt to keep the tears from slipping out. There were several murmurs of sympathy and distress, which Ginny glared into silence.

"We know, Ginny," Colin said, desperately trying to think of a way to comfort her. "But that's why we're here. We figured he's got loads of, you know, other things to deal with on top of You-Know-Who, and if _we_ could take care of those other things it would leave him free to focus on what he's got to do."

He watched her anxiously, but she had turned her head away.

"I – I don't know," she mumbled. "I've got to think about it." With that, she hurriedly left the room.

* * *

"Potter's Army, Hermione," Ginny groaned to Hermione later that evening. They were sitting in the common room before the fire, reviewing the Aguamenti Charm Ginny had slept through. Ron had gone up early to his dormitory with Dean, Seamus, and Neville after checking that there hadn't been any messages from Madam Pomfrey. 

"I don't see what you're complaining about," Hermione said, tapping the book on her lap with her wand. "It's a perfectly good idea."

Ginny shook her head. "But it's – "

"You didn't have a problem with the DA, did you? This is the same," Hermione pointed out. "They're just calling it something different this time, because their focus has shifted."

"But what can they really do?" Ginny asked. "They'd only get in the way. Some of them were _second _years. We can't just go teaching them Stunning Charms and Blasting Curses!"

"Why not?" Hermione countered. "Harry defeated a basilisk when he was a second year."

"He's _Harry,_" Ginny said exasperatedly. "He's – "

"He's what?" Hermione interrupted, eyebrow raised. "You know how we're always going around complaining that people are making such a big deal out of him being the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen, whatever? Well, what you just said is hypocrisy, Ginny Weasley. What's the point in telling everyone else that he's normal when you don't believe it yourself?"

"He just – I don't _know_," Ginny said in frustration. "He's different, all right? Everyone knows it. He's been doing things that wouldn't have been expected from anyone his age. We can't go around thinking just _anybody _can do stuff like that."

"But the thing is, Ginny," Hermione said firmly, "is that they really want to do this. No one's forcing them, no one's pushing them – all of them chose to start this on their own. If they didn't want to try, to work hard, to really _help_, then why would they join? Most of them aren't as stupid as we think they are. Some of them have defied their parents and taken the risk of coming back to Hogwarts – doesn't that say something? Besides, this whole thing helps with House unity. You said yourself that there were even Slytherins."

Ginny grumbled at the fire. She _hated _arguing with Hermione.

"Tell Colin you like the idea," Hermione said. "And tell them there'll be some seventh years coming next time."

"_You're_ going?" Ginny asked incredulously.

"Of course I am," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "Who else is going to teach them? I'm sure Ernie would like to go, too, and probably Justin, Hannah, Anthony…"

Ginny listened resignedly as Hermione rattled off more names. Next time, she'd have to inform someone less persuasive.

* * *

The first thing he noticed was the pain. 

It ate away at everything, all his bones and joints and muscles, burning up whatever was flammable and stabbing at what was left. He felt heavy and unbearably cold, as if he was sandwiched between two giant blocks of ice. A low, angry buzzing filled his head, sometimes escalating into whining screams that would shatter his thoughts and splinter his skull. His feelings and thoughts were as slippery as water on oil, and the way they careened around his head was as distracting as it was painful.

He woke from time to time, though it was more of a sort of drifting than real consciousness. The dull, constant pain was like a haze that he had to strain to see through, allowing him no more than occasional glimpses and flittering words.

He'd known it would hurt; he'd known it would be complicated. But the locket had been so different from Riddle's diary that it'd caught him off guard. He hadn't expected the spell to interact with the Horcrux like that – he hadn't expected any resistance at all. But of course, destroying it with a spell wouldn't be the same as destroying it with basilisk venom.

As with the teenager-Riddle in the diary, there had been a form of Voldemort within Slytherin's locket, too. He strongly suspected that it was this presence, this force, that had attempted to repel his Blasting Curse. Voldemort had spoken to him, his voice ringing clearly through the excruciating miasma of coldness and pain and screaming – _You dare confront me, worthless scum? You would dare to face Lord Voldemort? I'm afraid it won't be so easy..._

He didn't think this bit of Voldemort – which had seemed older than the Riddle in the diary, but still relatively young – had known specifically who it was being attacked by, and that the explosive assault was an automatic reaction - a sort of recorded response.

And then it had been a battle of wills, a war of souls. He wasn't sure, but he reckoned Voldemort had tried to leave the Horcrux and enter _his _body – obviously his natural, defensive resistance had reacted immediately, but even one-seventh of Voldemort's soul wasn't to be taken lightly. There was the laughter – the familiar cold, high-pitched cackle that echoed over everything else – that mocked him while gruesome images and chilling threats reverberated in his mind, ripping him apart, piercing his soul.

And yet there had been light beyond the pain. The flaring light of his spell, held together only by his will, blazing against the Horcrux, gaining ground inch by painstaking inch. There was the other voice, too – the soft, soothing voice whose whispers were like a balm on his wounds.

The final flash of light and the explosion told him the Horcrux had been destroyed, and he felt Voldemort's presence fading. But before it disappeared completely, it howled one last time and set fire to his scar – pain unlike anything he'd ever imagined burst inside his skull, and he knew no more.

How long he'd been in the Hospital Wing, he had no idea. Madam Pomfrey forced a vile liquid down his throat every once in a while that numbed his senses, filling his brain with a light fog. He was restless inside, he wanted to get up and walk and speak and maybe snog Ginny, but everything was too heavy. His eyelids remained shut over his eyes like stones; his arms and legs were motionless boulders.

And so he lay there, cursing time as it passed, waiting impatiently as he felt the haze lift bit by bit. Things were clearer; he could sometimes hear Madam Pomfrey muttering to herself as she bustled around the Hospital Wing, pouring out flasks of potions and organizing bundles of herbs – other times he could make out an enormous stack of cards and sweets at the foot of his bed. He could stay conscious for longer periods of time, the high-pitched laughter dying away to be replaced by the sounds of footsteps and voices of students passing by in the corridor – until at last, he felt the weight withdraw, leaving his body lighter than a feather.

His eyelids fluttered, remembering what it was like to stay open. When he finally found the resolve to keep them open, his eyes instantly filled with water and he had shut them quickly, feeling the cold tears dripping down the side of his face.

It took him several tries to remain open-eyed, and even then it was at a squint. There was no light; it took him a moment to realize that night had fallen. Blurrily, he peered up at the spotless white ceiling, gently flexing his fingers and moving his toes under the sheets. They were extremely stiff, but there was no pain aside from that.

After taking several minutes to loosen his limbs, he tried pushing himself up to a sitting position. He grimaced as he heard his back crack, but he managed to get up on his elbows. He reached for his glasses, which had been set on the bedside table, and shoved them off. Glancing around the room, he saw that he was alone; the other beds were clean and unruffled. Madam Pomfrey wasn't in sight – he presumed she was sleeping.

Taking a deep breath, he decided to attempt standing up. Gingerly he began shifting his legs under the sheets, moving them toward the edge of the bed. He had been dressed in the standard white Hospital Wing garb, and thick socks had been slipped on his feet. Even so, the floor was chilly when he set foot on it.

He found, much to his dismay, that even sitting there on the bed for a minute tired him. Nevertheless, he gritted his teeth and inched forward, his hand against the wall for support. He rose unsteadily from the bed, genuinely shocked at how hard this one simple movement was. His legs were trembling by the time he got to his feet, and before he could sit back down his knees buckled and he crashed painfully to the floor.

The bedpan that had been sitting on the bedside table clattered to the floor; he winced as the clanging echoed in the room. He was fairly sure he'd bruised his hip, and was wondering how in bloody hell he'd get himself back up when the sound of hurried footsteps reached his ears.

"Mr. Potter!" he heard Madam Pomfrey cry. She strode into view a moment later, a mixture of astonishment, relief, and exasperation evident on her face.

"What on _earth _were you thinking?" she scolded as she lifted him bodily from the floor and set him back on his bed like a four-year-old.

Feeling sheepish, he opened his mouth to respond – and nothing came out. He shook his head in bewilderment – the words were there but he couldn't put any sound to them.

She clucked her tongue, tugging the sheets back up to his chin. "Still recovering, then," she said. "Get some more sleep, and we'll see how well you feel in the morning." She turned to retrieve another potion from her stores, and he found that he was exhausted.

Without leaving time for protest, she poured a steaming purple potion down his throat that immediately made him drowsy; as he felt his eyes slide shut, he saw her hovering over him, a smile on her face.

"It's good to have you back, Mr. Potter," he heard her say before sleep overtook him once more.

-----

He awoke to the sunlight streaming onto his face. Madam Pomfrey was already up and about, busy sorting out piles of ingredients on a table. She abandoned this as soon as she saw that his eyes were open.

"How do you feel?" she asked briskly. "Can you speak?"

He blinked groggily, trying to focus on her. He still felt stiff, and his hip was sore from his fall last night, but otherwise he felt relatively good.

"Absolutely corking," he rasped. The sound of his own voice took him aback – it was low and hoarse, like two pieces of sandpaper grating against each other.

Madam Pomfrey seemed satisfied. "Excellent," she said. "Do you feel pain anywhere?"

He cautiously shook his head. "How long…?"

She sighed. "I – "

"Harry!"

She seemed as startled by the cry as he did; they both turned to see a crowd trying to barge into the Hospital Wing. At its head were Hermione and Ron. There was a tic in Madam Pomfrey's jaw as she nearly flew at the mob, eyes popping with fury.

"Out, all of you!" she screeched, flapping her arms. "What kind of behavior is this? This is the _Hospital Wing!_ You should all be in class! Out! _Out!_"

She managed to scare most of the crowd away, but Ron and Hermione ducked under her flailing arms and hurried over to his bed.

Hermione reached him first, as always. "Oh, Harry!" she cried, her relief manifesting itself as shining tears in her eyes as she flung her arms around his neck. He winced but hugged her back.

"Miss Granger, _what _are you doing?"

Hermione hastily let go of him as Madam Pomfrey returned, a bit red-faced from her exertions. She crossed her arms as she surveyed the three students before her; Hermione guiltily looked down at the ground and Ron shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet.

"We – we heard that Harry woke up," Hermione said timidly. "We just wanted to see him."

Madam Pomfrey frowned at them, clearly indicating that she didn't approve of it much, but said, "All right. But five minutes only!" She disappeared into her office, muttering under her breath.

"So…how're you feeling, mate?" Ron asked, sounding uncomfortable.

Harry shrugged. "Bloody bored. You?"

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione said as she sat down beside him – it seemed that his name was all she could say. "We – we were so worried."

"She was going right mad, she was," Ron said, grinning. "Missed a whole day's notes, she was going so spare."

"You were out for _four _days," Hermione said exasperatedly.

"That's not bad for me," Harry said, grinning back.

Hermione shook her head. "The whole school's buzzing about it," she said, nodding at the colossal mountain of gifts and cards at the foot of his bed. "Seems everybody's on a first-name basis with you now, too."

"Especially the girls," Ron said, raising his eyebrows.

Harry snorted.

"Ginny says she's sorry she couldn't come," Hermione went on. "Professor Flitwick wouldn't let her miss class. She'll – "

"Time's up, out!" Madam Pomfrey announced, reemerging from her office. "Get to class, both of you!"

"But – "

"You can come back later," Madam Pomfrey said obstinately. "Mr. Potter requires _rest, _not the latest gossip." She herded them out and shut the door behind them, despite their objections. Grumbling something about "disturbing the peace", she administered another dose of potion to Harry before returning to her office.

-----

He wolfed down a bowl of cereal for breakfast and read through the _Daily Prophet _for most of the morning. Various people dropped by to say hello and see how he was doing – just as Hermione had hinted, they were mostly girls. He had just started to sift through his pile of get-well presents when Madam Pomfrey returned from a brief excursion.

"You have a visitor," she informed him in a disapproving tone. He keenly turned his head toward the door – it was lunchtime, and he could think of only one person that would think to visit him now.

Ginny slowly entered the room, seemingly unaware of Madam Pomfrey's scrutiny as her gaze locked on Harry's. The nurse harrumphed loudly but retreated once more, leaving the two of them alone.

Ginny didn't utter a word as she approached him, her eyes fierce and blazing. Harry reckoned he'd never be able to see enough of her even if he looked at her for the rest of his life. When she finally reached him, she sat down on the bed and leaned forward.

"You bloody prat," she whispered, before kissing him soundly.

"I'm doing very well, thank you," he said dryly when she pulled away.

"You deserved it," she growled, her face only inches from his.

"Did I?" Harry said in mock surprise. "I better go and find the rest of those Horcruxes, then. Twice as many if I'm out for over a week – what d'you say?"

Her brown eyes crackled. "If you ever – _ever_ – do something like this to me again, I'll knock you out."

"Snog me senseless? I hadn't thought of that – excellent idea, though," he said, grinning widely.

She smiled, but her eyes were somber. "Honestly, Harry. You have no idea how scared I was," she said quietly. "Seeing you here, thinking you might – you might be gone for good."

He heard the catch in her voice and reached out to embrace her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, wrapping his arms tightly around her. "I didn't – there was no other way. I mean, I hadn't expected it to be this bad either, but at least…" He took a deep breath. "At least now, I'll be ready."

She nodded into his shoulder before pulling back. "It's – it's really gone, then? It's destroyed?"

He leaned his head back against the wall and sighed. "Yeah. Three down, three to go."

She shuddered as she slid off the bed. "Three more… Well, I've got to get back to lunch," she said apologetically. "I'll try to come back later with Ron and Hermione."

He nodded, smiling at her. "See you."

"Oh – this is for you." She reached into her pocket and pulled something out, handing it to him with a diffident smile. It was a simple white card – a relief after the other large, lavish ones he'd received, signed at the bottom with names of girls he was sure he'd never heard of.

"For me?" he asked, acting surprised.

"For you," she replied with a grin, leaning forward to kiss him again. "And no – it doesn't sing."

* * *

Up Next: Draco learns a harsh lesson, and while Voldemort was happy enough to ravage his own soul, he doesn't quite appreciate that others are destroying it.

Note: Little Owen up there would be another one of our creations...obviously we don't know if Demelza has a brother. ;)

And now that you've read, please review - especially if you haven't before. We like to hear your splendiferous comments.


	10. Consequences

Muchas gracias to all who reviewed. Here's numero neuf. :)**

* * *

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**Consequences - **_"When the world goes dark, when you've lost everything – the bright things seem so much brighter."_

The building is, for lack of a better term, ancient.

It radiates a deep chill in the warm moonlit evening. The cracks and vines that wreath its façade give it the look of an unsightly blemish in the backdrop of the surrounding country.

No one has approached it in years. For decades, it has stood abandoned. Strange people have lived in it, people whisper. No one knows who. Strange things have happened in its rooms, its halls. No one knows what.

In fact, there isn't much they know about it at all. But the entire village in the valley agrees – the fine hill it stands upon, the lush forest to the west, the fresh-looking stream tricking to the east; they're all tainted. Look at them, and your eyes burn. Touch them, and your hands shrivel. Look what happened to Gregor Kaplan. Look at his fingers. No bones, just wrinkled skin.

It's the house. There's evil in the house.

And Harry Potter knows it.

He stands alone at the foot of the high, grassy hill, his wand clutched in his hand as he grimly surveys the ancient residence.

There is something in there that he needs. Something important.

_Don't go in._

_It's a trap._

He knows it. It's obvious, really. But this is what he has run away for. This is part of his prophecy, and the faster he fulfills it, the better. It's a trap, but the bait is real.

With a deep, steadying breath, he takes a decisive step forward.

Keeping his eyes on the great, carved doors, he slowly, determinedly makes his way up the hill. There is a barrier pushing him physically out but mentally sucking him in. He fights both with gritted teeth, his wand held out in front of him.

And then he's standing before the door, breathing heavily but unscathed in any other way. A dragon is carved into the grimy, splintering wood, its eyes two large rubies that watch him wherever he steps.

He points his wand at the door, and it creaks open.

He steps inside.

The door creaks shut behind him, in perfect horror movie style, with an ominous click.

There's no light, but it's not dark. He's in a giant hall, the domed ceiling crosshatched with spider webs. A giant marble staircase spreads out before him, leading up onto a shadowed second landing consisting of one long, continuous corridor. There's a large, dusty fireplace to his left and a forbidding black opening to his right.

His footsteps echo on the marble tiles, which are covered in a fine layer of dust and filth, as he walks further in.

"_Lumos."_

Soft light beams from his wand. He hesitates for a moment, and then points it at the blackness to his right. It reveals another corridor.

Studying it carefully – pointing his wand at the plain, rectangular archway, the unmarked walls – he quickly makes up his mind. With a deep breath, he plunges into the darkness.

There's no magic. No invisible force field, no tripwire, no magic restraint. And so he runs. He runs and runs, and the corridor becomes familiar.

The walls are gray and blank, stretching on and on into the void.

It's the corridor in the Department of Mysteries.

He runs on, his feet pounding the gray, blank floor, his breathing ragged in his ears. The light on his wand bounces and dances across the walls.

Then there's the door.

For fear that hesitation will stop him, he immediately grasps the doorknob and pushes the door open.

When he steps in, he falls.

The ground disappears beneath him, and with nothing to grab onto he tumbles through the air. The sky has turned a dark navy blue, the stars obscured by stormy clouds. The wind whistles past his face, making his eyes water, and he holds on tightly to his wand, desperately trying to think of a spell that will break his fall.

An island – he's over the ocean – starts out as a speck of darkness beneath him, but it rapidly grows in size. Choppy, foaming waves crash against the weathered maze of boulders on the shore. A vast, looming fortress positioned in the center of the island swiftly comes into view. Tall, hooded figures stand guard at various posts, studiously looking out to sea with unseeing eyes.

The coldness hits him suddenly, with as much force as if he'd just run into a wall. It knocks the breath out of his body and he only just retains his grip on his wand.

"_Accio Firebolt!" _he gasps.

He barely grabs onto the broom that rockets in from nowhere; tremblingly he mounts it, still shuddering from the wave of chilliness emanating from the hooded figures. He drifts farther down at a much slower pace, careful to steer as far from the Dementors as possible.

As he watches from his lofty position, he catches sight of black-cloaked figures materializing here and there, all over the fortress. There are so many of them; he loses count after fifty, and they're still coming. They form a black ring around the building and slowly move forward, like a constricting band. The guards don't notice – or maybe they do, but they choose to ignore it.

_They're breaking in!_

The realization hits him like a bolt of lightning, and he immediately turns his Firebolt downward, heedless of the Dementors. Wand raised, he swoops down – even if he can't fight them, he has to alert someone. Death Eaters are breaking into Azkaban.

But no one else is in sight. He circles lower and lower, unwilling to be seen by the Death Eaters but pushed on by urgency. At last, he decides he has no choice and dives down like a hawk, wand ready to rain down spells on the intruders –

He can't. His first spell dissolves in midair, and the Death Eaters don't even notice. The first few have reached the entrances; they force the doors open and rush in. Confused and frustrated, he tries another spell – this, too, vanishes before it can hit. He can only watch in growing horror as the security wizards are killed where they stand, can only chase after the cloaked and masked Death Eaters and futilely yell curses and spells.

It's too hard to maneuver the corridors on his broom; he abandons it and starts running. He's nearly lost sight of the group he's been following, but another one bursts out from around a corner. He is shocked to see that, instead of blasting him aside, they aren't aware of him at all. They continue on their way, passing right through him. Any spells he tries to fire after them similarly disappear.

Screams and shouts are echoing down the corridors; firelight throws shadows on the walls. As he passes by the cells, he is appalled at the condition their inhabitants are in – a blond man lying in his own vomit; a short, stocky woman tearing her hair out as she repeatedly slams her head against the bars; an old man sitting in the corner, stripped to the waist, nothing but skin stretched tightly over his bones.

He follows the sound of the Death Eaters' voices, and he eventually stumbles into the section that is apparently reserved for captured Death Eaters. The intruders are unlocking the doors, blasting them away where they don't open immediately, and helping the occupants out.

He recognizes most of them; they're the Death Eaters that were incarcerated after the battle in the Department of Mysteries. One man in particular catches his eye – white-blond hair, gray eyes: Lucius Malfoy. He is soon immersed in the black cloaks of his fellows, gone from Harry's view.

Having released everyone, they're hurrying away, not willing to risk detection this early. He follows them closely, trying to listen to their whispers. As they sharply round a corner, he loses his balance and falls – right through the ground.

He's plummeting down again, through a void that's so black he can't see his hands in front of his face; before he can think to Summon his Firebolt, he lands painfully on a flagstone floor. There are two other people in the circular room he's been dropped into; they stand with their backs to him, their fingers entwined as they whisper to each other.

"_Oh, Tom! You've done it..."_

"_We have succeeded, we have won..."_

The world is spinning; he has to get up, he has to tell someone, alert the Order that the Death Eaters have broken into Azkaban – but he can't move.

Shadows fall over him but he doesn't look up, for he knows whose they are. They're a tall, tall man, wearing a swirling cloak and satisfied sneer. The red eyes scream glee and mockery, and the shadow of a white, bony arm encircles its companion.

He forces himself to look. A red-haired girl stares down on him condescendingly as she embraces Tom, stroking his black hair, caressing his gaunt face.

"Ginny," he murmurs. "Ginny." _What the hell's going on! Stop! Ginny, stop, please, please stop..._

She tosses her head in the way he loves. Her red hair swinging behind her in a graceful arc, she turns to Tom, reaches up on her toes, and kisses him.

And it's as he watches this unfold that Harry's scar bursts into flame. He yells and clutches his head, his wand clattering uselessly by his side.

And through the pain, through his cries, there comes a new sound.

Laughter.

Cold, mocking laughter.

Ginny Weasley and Tom Riddle, arm in arm, look down upon him and laugh.

-----

And then someone called him, called his name frantically. "Harry! Harry, are you okay? Harry! Oh Merlin – Ron, get Madam Pomfrey!"

The laughter was still ringing, echoing in his head, softer now but ever sardonic.

A hand shook his shoulder, gently yet urgently. He tried to respond, but his body was rigid.

Footsteps pounded somewhere ahead, and a new voice entered his mind. "Sweet Merlin. What's wrong? What's wrong with him?"

His eyelids were lighter, ever light, and he tried to force them open, to no avail. The laughter kept ringing, ringing, ringing…

A small, cool hand grasped his. "Harry, answer me! Harry, Harry..."

_Ubiquitous laughter... "Oh Tom!" Ginny? What – "We have succeeded..." Laughing..._

"Harry!" This second plea was heartrending, and his eyes snapped open. Ginny and Hermione stood above him, tears of worry shining on their faces. Hermione collapsed onto the bed, now sobbing with relief. Ginny just stood there, holding his hand.

And then Madam Pomfrey was in the room, her face ashen. Ron ran in behind her, the frightened look bringing out his freckles. She bustled across the room, taking command.

"What happened?" she asked quickly, nudging Ginny aside.

"A-Azkaban," he stammered, shivering. "They broke into Azkaban."

* * *

"Are the accommodations to your taste, My Lord?" 

He turns around at the silky voice, knowing the obsequious, respectful tone comes wholly from fear. It amuses him, sometimes – now, it annoys him.

"You are fortunate that they are," he says as he eyes the cloaked man kneeling before him with slight distaste. Yaxley, for all his services, is a slippery character.

"Yes, My Lord," Yaxley answers, breathing out what he believes to be an inaudible sigh of relief. "The convention awaits your presence, My lord."

"I am aware of it," he replies, and strides over to the high-backed chair in the center of the room. Yaxley scurries out of the way, nearly falling over in his haste. His small, rat-like face gleams with sweat in the candlelight.

"Sh-shall I – "

" I will be there shortly," he says softly, effectively cutting the man off. "Leave me."

"Yes, My Lord, of course, My lord." Yaxley jumps to his feet as if a jolt of electricity has burned through him. He swiftly backpedals out of the room, bowing all the while.

_Fool._

Alone in the dimly lit room, he closes his eyes.

_I am surrounded by fools. _

It has begun – the end of the beginning. If nothing has worked before, he is sure this will. He knows it. He has worked toward it for seventeen years. He has endured physical pain, mental agony, and humiliation at the hands of a teenage boy. He had thought, foolishly, that the boy would be but a mere nuisance. But little Harry Potter had proved to be much more than that by destroying another one of his Horcruxes. _That _had angered him.

But once the boy is destroyed, he will move on to more important matters. He will conquer the world. He will advance magic to its full potential. Muggles would be eradicated.

But first, the punishments.

He grips the arms of the dark velvet chair and rises to his feet. With a smile – with a feeling of anticipation he has not experienced for decades – he vanishes from the room.

A moment later, the candles wink out.

------

He reappears in the center of a massive ring of masked figures, gathered under a glowing, lurid-green skull suspended in the pitch-black sky. As one, the figures drop to their knees as he straightens. He surveys the gathering and nods in satisfaction – the numbers have grown noticeably in the past several months. And there were still more devastating the countryside.

"My Death Eaters," he begins in a soft, sibilant whisper, allowing his pleasure to show in a wide smile that curls his lipless mouth. "Please, all of you, stand," he says, amusement gleaming in his blood-red gaze at the reverently – or fearfully, more like – bowing ranks spreading out before him. "All the better to see your faces," he adds, noting the shiver of dread passing through his black-cloaked followers as they rise to their feet.

Once they are standing, it is much easier to identify people.

"Wormtail," he calls quietly, and the short little man bows deferentially. His silver hand glimmers beneath his cloak. "Look around you."

Somewhat awkwardly, behind his bone-white skull mask, Wormtail obeys.

"What do you see, Wormtail?"

"Us, My Lord," Wormtail says, fairly confident of his reply. "Your followers for eternity, Master."

"I agree, Wormtail, I agree…my followers, my Death Eaters. It is a much greater assembly than that which gathered at my father's grave almost three years ago, is it not? Some of you have just recently joined my cause, while others have been at my side" – he lets a hiss leak into his voice as he says this, and his eyes flash to those he knows have been unfaithful: Wormtail, briefly; Nott, Avery, Lucius; but they will all be dealt with in the end – "for quite some time."

He lets his gaze fall upon a certain figure, standing stooped over in the shadow of his father.

"Ah, one of our newest additions, Mr. Malfoy," he whispers, and all shift to eye the boy, who only seems to shrink futher into his robes. "Stand tall, Draco, stand tall. It is not a shameful thing to be a Death Eater, is it? Although, perhaps, in your case..."

He can feel the burn of anger and shame in the boy as quiet laughter runs through the rings of Death Eaters. His father beside him also stiffens; it's only a slight movement, but enough for him to notice it. Narcissa stands beside him, shivering in her cloak.

"Be glad, be grateful…consider yourself the most fortunate of men that you have walked away with a mere branding on your back," he laughs. "More competent followers of mine have not been able to walk away at all…

"But you have learned from your punishment, haven't you, Draco? You have learned, quicker than most, not to disobey Lord Voldemort."

Bestowing the now-trembling head of Draco Malfoy with a wicked smile, he addresses his audience once more.

"Last night, I sent some of my most trusted Death Eaters on a task of grave importance," he says, watching as some of them stand taller at this almost-praise, "which I am sure all of you know the details of. They managed to infiltrate Azkaban and liberate those of you that have been imprisoned for over a year."

"We are honored, My Lord," one of them – Rookwood – whispers.

"I would like the eleven of you to step forward," he continues, ignoring Rookwood.

Eleven figures hesitantly step forward. He can feel their uncertainty – will they be punished? Or rewarded?

He turns to the first one, Dolohov.

"I told you to retrieve the prophecy," he says quietly. A shudder runs through Dolohov's body. "And what happened?"

Dolohov swallows audibly. "I – we f-failed, My Lord. Forgive us, My Lord, we – "

"I have heard enough excuses," he interrupts. Dolohov immediately falls silent. "You disappointed me greatly. Bella already knows the consequences of this – don't you, Bella?"

"Yes, My Lord," Bella murmurs, head bowed.

"Please, My Lord – "

"Quiet," he says. He raises his wand and Dolohov drops to the ground, screaming. No one moves; he stands watching his Death Eater thrash about for a full minute before flicking his wand. Dolohov lays there breathing heavily, unable to speak.

He moves on to the next one, Avery. He, too, is subject to the Cruciatus Curse. So goes the punishment for the others – Rookwood, Jugson, Mulciber, Nott, Crabbe, Macnair, the Lestrange brothers.

Last is Malfoy. Behind him, his wife is trembling. Her white-knuckled hand grips her son's shoulder.

"Lucius," he drawls.

"My Lord," Lucius replies as he bows his head.

"You have accomplished many things for me, have you not?"

Lucius hesitates, unsure if it is a trick question. "Yes, My Lord," he answers finally.

"Yes," he repeats, nodding. "Yes... But you have also failed me on many counts, Lucius..." It is not a question this time. "I trusted you greatly with this task. I expected you to stand before me and deliver the prophecy into my hands... Where is the prophecy now, Lucius?"

"It – it was smashed, My Lord."

His son grimaces in pain as Narcissa's fingers bite into his shoulder.

"Smashed..." he repeats. "Gone, forever..."

No one speaks. Lucius is breathing heavily inside his mask. His hands are shaking.

"Did you know, Lucius, that I gave your son a task while you were away?" he asked suddenly in conversational tones.

"No, My Lord," Lucius says cautiously. He can tell the man is refraining from looking back at his son with difficulty.

"It was an important task, yes, maybe more important than yours...would you like to ask him what it was?"

"It would please me greatly, My Lord," Lucius says. He stiffly turns around to face his son, who seems to shrink into his cloak.

"Draco," Lucius addresses him in a strangled voice. "What task was set to you by Our Lord?"

All eyes are on Draco. Narcissa trembles uncontrollably.

"Kill Albus Dumbledore," Draco whispers at last.

Lucius picks his head up sharply; his mouth opens, but he quickly shuts it.

"And would you like to ask him how it went?" he says pleasantly.

"Did you complete this task?" Lucius asks obediently.

"No," Draco says.

Lucius shudders and takes a step back. "My Lord, I did not – "

"Did I ask for excuses, Lucius?" he says. "Draco failed, yes – Severus Snape completed the act for me, as you may have heard. But Draco has received his punishment… And I imagine, Draco, that after your ordeal, you would like to see your father rewarded for a change?"

Frowns and murmurs sweep through the massed Death Eaters at this pronouncement – _"Rewarded?"_ they whisper.

"Yes, rewarded," he says with a soft laugh, turning back to the Death Eater. "Don't look so surprised, Lucius. You have, after all, agreed with me that you have had numerous successes..."

"Yes, My Lord, I am eternally grateful, My Lord..." Lucius murmurs, bowing deeply.

"Come, Draco, step forward," he beckons with a smile.

The boy seems frozen, his eyes wide with apprehension. His mother nudges him forward, and he stumbles up to stand beside his father.

"Kneel down, won't you, Lucius?" he says in a sibilant whisper. Lucius silently obeys. "Good, good... And I bid all of you to remember this moment as an example of what _you_ could be..."

He raises his wand, bestowing the man before him with a triumphant smile.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

The blinding green light, the rush.

There is a stunned silence as the Death Eaters stare at Lucius Malfoy's lifeless body. Draco blankly looks down upon the limp heap of robes beside him, uncomprehending.

A sudden scream of despair rents the air. Narcissa Malfoy breaks free from the circle and dashes to her husband's side. She collapses beside him and cradles his head in her lap, sobbing as she strokes the white-blonde hair.

He slips his wand inside his robes and turns away. It was as just a reward as Lucius deserved; most of the others that failed him were subject to hours – maybe days – of torture before they were allowed to be killed...

"_How dare you!"_

The shriek makes him look back, just in time to see Narcissa lunge at him. Her eyes are wild with rage and crazed grief.

His wand is immediately in his hand again. He flicks it in her direction. She crumples to the ground, as lifeless as her husband.

He is filled with contempt as he looks at them, husband and wife; dead. They had stood against him, Lord Voldemort, and gotten only as much as they had deserved.

Draco is still gazing perplexedly at the two inert forms before him.

He smiles to himself. The shock prevents the boy from grasping the situation, but when he does... He turns again, and nods to Severus and Bella, who stand nearby at attention. They immediately take control, and as soon as he is satisfied that they know what they are doing, he vanishes with a swirl of his cloak.

------

"Go, take him back," Bella said, jerking her head toward a stricken Draco. The other Death Eaters had been sent away; only she, Snape, Draco, and the bodies of Lucius and Narcissa remained in the open field.

Snape nodded stiffly and approached the boy.

"He killed them," Draco whispered, turning around to face him. Tears ran unchecked down his cheeks. "He killed them."

Snape said nothing as he took Draco by the arm. "Let's go," he said shortly.

Draco wouldn't move. "He killed them," he repeated. "I – I'll kill him." He drew his wand and attempted to shake off Snape's hand.

"Draco, listen to – "

"He killed my parents!" Draco shouted, brandishing his wand at the silhouette of the giant tower. "Let go of me!"

"_Stupefy!"_

A jet of red light slammed into Draco, and Snape caught him before he fell.

"Stupid boy," Bella muttered, stuffing her wand inside her cloak before turning back to the bodies of her sister and brother-in-law. Snape couldn't ever recall the two of them being close, but Narcissa's death had evidently upset her to some degree.

"I'll be back," Snape grunted as he hefted the Stunned boy onto his back and Disapparated.

He reappeared in his room a moment later. Draco's weight made him stagger, but he made it to the bed before the boy slipped off his back.

He straightened again and studied Draco's pale face, remembering Lucius' "reward" and Narcissa's scream. _Stupid boy..._

Bella had already dug the graves by the time he returned. She had moved the bodies closer to the edge of the forest. He joined her wordlessly to help lower the bodies into the ground. He took up Lucius' wand as Bella took Narcissa's, and together they snapped them in half.

"He knew it was coming," he said quietly, crouching down to place the two halves of Lucius' wand on top of his body.

"Did she?" Bella retorted bitterly, doing the same for Narcissa. "He had no right. She was only grieving for Lucius. She wasn't in her right mind."

"When does the Dark Lord ever need the right?" he asked, standing back up. "It is done and over. There's nothing we can do but pay our respects."

Bella snorted. She, too, stood up and waved her wand over Narcissa's grave. It instantly filled itself with dirt. With another flick of her wand, Bella created a simple stone marker that stood at the head of the grave.

_Narcissa Black Malfoy_

_1955-1997_

No words of endearment or sorrow. Snape shook his head as he created a marker for Lucius.

_Lucius Malfoy_

_1954-1997_

He turned to leave, but Bella remained by her sister's grave, staring at the marker she had made. After a moment, she bent down, running her fingers over Narcissa's name, and whispered, "Goodbye, Cissy."

* * *

Up Next: Fame hasn't gotten to Harry's head yet, and he sure as hell won't let it start now. But, maybe, all the attention is a good thing. An old face returns to the scene with some desperately needed good news. 

Review? Of course you want to. Just to make us happy, right?


	11. Stepping Up

Well, here's number ten - enjoy. :)**  
**

* * *

**Stepping Up** –_ "Why would your Patronus change?" Lupin took his time chewing his turkey and swallowing before saying slowly, "Sometimes...a great shock...an emotional upheaval..." _

"_Potter's _Army?" Harry demanded. "Are they _insane?_"

He was sitting upright in his bed in the Hospital Wing; Hermione, who stood before him, let out an exasperated sigh.

"It's just like the DA," she said, "except that now they've shifted their focus to you. You're a leader to them – you're their hope."

"And what if I don't want to be?" he said roughly. As if he didn't have enough to deal with already…

Hermione shook her head. "You know the truth about the world, Harry. Usually it doesn't care what you want or don't want. Besides, would you back away from them and leave them with nothing? This gives them something to concentrate on. It helps keep Voldemort out of their minds."

Harry wrung his sheets in frustration. "But what _good _is it? We've got a decent Defense teacher now. Won't they have enough to learn from him?"

"It's not the same thing, Harry, and you know it," Hermione admonished. "Look, just give them a chance. Ron and I went to one of the meetings with Ginny yesterday, and they're really into this. It's not just a bunch of ragtag little kids that don't have anything better to do."

"Hermione!"

They both turned to see Ron in the doorway. He waved to Harry before continuing on, "We'll be late for class, hurry up!"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "He actually _wants _to go to class?" he asked dubiously.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "As if. Professor Blackthorn said he'd be showing us how to transform people into animals; Ron's been going on about ferrets all morning."

Harry snorted.

"Anyway, I've got to go," Hermione said as she picked her bag up. "Think about it, all right?"

Harry grumbled under his breath as she turned to leave. Merlin be _damned _if he was going to spend precious time teaching a bunch of second-years how to Stun six-foot-tall, bloodthirsty Death Eaters.

* * *

Three days later, he found himself in the Room of Requirement instructing a group of eager third-years on how to raise a shield. 

"Right, so you go like this" – he flicked his wand in demonstration – "and the incantation is…"

"_Protego,"_ one of the girls supplied.

"Good," Harry said, nodding. "You can go practice it now. And don't use potentially dangerous spells – stick with Tickling Charms or something."

The third-years nodded excitedly and bounded off. Harry watched them go with a faint sense of amusement. He'd been genuinely surprised to see how many people took part in the meetings, and rather impressed by the amount of skill, potential, and willingness that everyone shared. Colin, Dennis, and Luna had done a remarkable job in rounding up skilled and determined students.

He even found, at one point, that he was enjoying himself – he tried not to let it show too much though, lest it prompt another "I told you so!" from Hermione.

It was she who arranged meeting times so that they were convenient for everyone; she also took charge of attendance and recruiting – it was thanks to her that nearly everyone from their year was a diligent participant – which left Harry with little to do aside from showing up.

"Harry," someone said, tapping him on the shoulder. "Can you help us?"

He turned around slowly, dreading who he would see.

Romilda Vane stood before him, with two other girls at her back. She gave him a sweet smile.

"We can't figure out this Stunning Charm," she said innocently. Harry had seen her immobilize a sixth year from Hufflepuff not five minutes ago.

"Er, all right," he said, thanking Merlin Ginny was on the other side of the room. "So, you hold your wand like this…"

He cursorily went through the steps and watched one of her friends perform the charm while inconspicuously attempting to pry Romilda's fingers off his arm. He gave the girl a hasty nod of approval before quickly edging away. He heard them giggling as he joined Neville, who was practicing the Patronus Charm with Luna and Ron.

"I almost had it once, Harry," he said brightly, sweeping the hair out of his eyes. "I think it's some kind of bird."

"That's great, Neville," Harry said, grinning.

He spent another hour wandering around, encouraging and helping where he could. He felt slightly disappointed when Hermione finally announced that the meeting was over.

"Excellent work, everyone," she said, beaming. "I think we'll be more than capable of defending Hogwarts with the progress we're making. What do you think, Harry?"

"Definitely," Harry said. "It's brilliant that you're all working so hard on this, because Hogwarts is one of the more obvious priorities after Horcruxes and Voldemort."

He frowned to see the sudden flinching Voldemort's name generated.

"Don't say his name!" someone hissed.

"If you keep this up," Harry continued, staidly ignoring the white faces, "we can keep Death Eaters away for sure. I don't think Voldemort will be targeting Hogwarts himself, so we won't have to worry about a full-scale war on the grounds or anything."

There was more whispering and blanching; a short, stocky boy tentatively raised his hand. "Er, Harry? Can you not, you know, say his name?"

Harry faced him; the boy faltered but held his gaze. "Are you scared?" Harry asked him.

"No!" the boy said indignantly. "I'm not scared, I just – "

"I am," Harry interrupted quietly. "I'm scared as hell right now. Scared of what'll happen to my friends, to you, to everybody I know. Scared of what everyone expects of me and scared that I might die. Scared that I'll fail – that I won't be able to find a Horcrux, that Hogwarts might fall, that someone else I love will die. I'm scared of loads of things right now, but you know what? Voldemort's name isn't one of them."

"Yeah, but – "

"But what?" Harry said. "How are you going to fight him if you can't even say his name? Do you want to be on the same level as Death Eaters, who are so fearful of him that they have to add 'My Lord' at the end of every sentence? You guys are better than them. I've faced Voldemort five times so far. He killed my parents and gave me this bloody scar. And if, after all that, I can say his name without flinching, I think you lot could do the same."

"We're not like you, though," the boy said sadly. "It's true you've faced You-Know-Who before, but you had the power to stand up to him. We don't. He's not as fallible to us as he is to you."

Harry felt himself losing his patience. "But it's just a _name._ Just some stupid word that a sixteen-year-old kid took a fancy to. It's no different from Ron, or Hermione, or Colin – listen. If you honestly can't say Voldemort, call him something else. Call him – I dunno, the Dark Dork or something. Just _stop _saying You-Know-Who."

There was a moment of stunned silence after Harry's outburst. Suddenly, a group of boys started snickering. Their mirth soon spread to their friends and the people around them until the whole room was laughing, repeating the name.

"Harry, that was _brilliant!" _Hermione whispered to him excitedly.

"Was it?" Harry asked bemusedly.

"Of course," Ron scoffed, joining the two of them. "Dark Dork?"

Hermione agreed with a wide smile. "It's a perfect parody on what the Death Eaters call him, and people don't stop to think of the fear it connotes because of the sheer absurdity of how it sounds."

"I suppose we'll want to call Death Eaters Death Gobblers too, then?" Harry asked dryly.

Hermione beamed and hugged him tightly. "Harry, you're a genius!"

"Yeah, watch your back Hermione, or I'll catch up to you," he said, grinning.

Hermione rolled her eyes as she released him. "Don't push it," she warned with a smile.

* * *

He received a message from Lupin that following Thursday, informing him that he should be at the Room of Requirement by nine A.M. for his first private lesson. Ginny unfortunately had a Charms class so only he, Ron, and Hermione made their way up to the seventh floor after breakfast. 

They warily approached the wall opposite Barnabas the Barmy's tapestry, double-checking that no one had followed them. Ron and Hermione kept watch on either side of the corridor as Harry paced before the blank stretch of wall three times. They hurriedly ascertained that the corridor was empty before pulling the door open and stepping inside.

"You're late," growled a voice by way of greeting.

They jumped and spun around to find Mad-Eye, Lupin, and Tonks sitting on table on the opposite side of the room.

"Only by two minutes," Ron protested. Lupin smiled faintly.

Harry looked around the room; it was large and spacious, filled with cushions of various sizes, chairs, tables, a cabinet containing what looked to be torture instruments, and a bookshelf packed with books that Hermione was already eyeing eagerly.

"I could take down half a dozen Death Eaters in two minutes in my day," Mad-Eye said, glaring at Ron.

"Sure, Mad-Eye," Tonks said, grinning. "Too bad your day was a little farther back."

Mad-eye grumbled something under his breath as he stumped to the center of the room. "What are you waiting for, let's get started," he said.

The three of them wasted no time at all drilling home the grim fact that time was running out. Lupin warned them that any controversial mention of Snape would not be tolerated – it was neither the time nor place to debate a divisive topic.

But Snape was easily forgotten as they delved deeper into the rules and strategies of duels and wizards' war.

"What we're going to teach you is of the utmost importance – you _must _practice and master these skills if you're going to face Voldemort," Lupin said firmly.

"Or else I'll have you writing theories for everything," Mad-Eye growled. "And don't think I won't."

Ron shuddered; they'd had to do theories in Transfiguration last year and the year before. To say the least, Hermione had not enjoyed the late-night common room sessions.

"Speed, skill, cunning, and vigilance," became Mad-Eye's new mantra. He stressed the importance of quick reflexes, which he exemplified when he rounded unexpectedly upon Ron and cast a Silencing Charm on him. Ron hadn't even had the chance to look surprised as he stood there, mouthing wordlessly. "If I'd been a Death Eater, you'd be dead," Mad-Eye informed him as he restored Ron's voice.

Tonks emphasized precision – she showed them a chessboard sitting on a table some twenty feet away and proceeded to topple the line of black pawns one by one with short jets of blue light.

"Wicked," Ron breathed as the disgruntled pawns resumed their places.

Lupin reminded them that there were no real rules in war – Wizard _or _Muggle. Acts normally considered "dirty tricks" such as tripping, throwing objects, and so on were highly encouraged. Dueling in wars was not a matter of honor, and it required thinking as much as power.

With that, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were paired up with Mad-Eye, Lupin, and Tonks respectively and sent off to be "assessed."

"Your aim is to disarm me," Mad-Eye told him before they began, but Harry didn't get anywhere near disarming. He found that it was all he could do to keep from being killed – and to keep his temper in check once Mad-Eye decided to add taunts to the murderous spells he rattled off.

"Big weakness of yours, Potter," Mad-Eye told him calmly when he had made a recklessly furious lunge after an acidic crack at Sirius.

Harry gritted his teeth and dived out of the way of a Stinging Hex. A minute later, he found himself measuring his length on the floor, staring up dazedly at a cackling Mad-Eye – he had just delivered an uppercut to Harry's chin.

"Physical contact," he said, grinning down on Harry. "Don't be afraid to use it. Most won't expect it. Now get up."

Just as Harry was beginning to get the hang of it – he had ducked behind a chair to avoid a Tickling Charm and retaliated with a Full-Body Bind – Lupin called quits.

"Well done," Lupin said, nodding approvingly as they reconvened in the center of the room. "You're all in good shape and you know the basic spells. We'll be dueling like this at the beginning of every lesson to see how much you improve."

Ron groaned.

"Now, today we'll be focusing on Patronuses," Lupin said, rolling up his sleeves. "Your final goal will be sending messages with them."

"You can do that?' Ron asked, furrowing his brows.

"It's not something you're taught here," Tonks said. "It was Dumbledore's idea. We use it in the Order to communicate."

"Patronuses are more efficient in sending messages than owls or the Floo Network; it's especially useful now because of all the restrictions the Ministry's put on them," Mad-Eye went on.

"And each Patronus is unique, so you can always tell who sent the message, right?" Hermione said. "You also can't conjure anyone's Patronus but your own, so no one can send false messages."

"Very good," Lupin said, looking pleased. "It's also an anti-Dark Arts device, which makes it naturally resistant to interference from Dark wizards. Being ethereal, of course, also means it can't be hindered by physical barriers."

"But first, you need to know how to do the Patronus Charm," Mad-Eye said. "You all know the incantation?"

"_Expecto Patronum," _Hermione supplied.

"Good, now we know Potter can do it, so let's see you two try it."

"And fifty Galleons to Ron if he can do it on the first try," Tonks said with a grin.

Hermione managed to conjure her otter Patronus on the second try. Ron only managed to conjure a wisp of silvery smoke ("Don't worry, Tonks doesn't even _have _fifty Galleons," Lupin smirked.)

They split up again – Ron went with Lupin to practice the Patronus spell, while Mad-Eye and Tonks proceeded to teach Harry and Hermione how to send messages with their Patronuses.

From what Harry could gather of Mad-Eye and Tonks' instructions, the process was very similar to putting memories into a Penseive. There was no incantation besides that of the Patronus Charm, and once the message and recipient were given to the Patronus, it would vanish and do the rest.

"Just think of what you want to say, and who you want to send it to," Tonks said, pointing the tip of her wand to her temple, "and…pull it out." When Tonks removed her wand-tip, there was a silver strand attached to it. She then handed the strand to her Patronus, which accepted it by – well, eating it, as far as Harry could tell. It then vanished – and reappeared by Harry's side, making him jump.

"Touch your wand to it, and you'll hear the message," Tonks said.

Harry reached out and tapped his wand on the werewolf's head. Almost immediately, he heard Tonks voice inside his head.

_::See? Very simple.::_

"If you give it two or more destinations, it'll just deliver the same message to those people in the order you list them," Tonks said as her Patronus disappeared again and rematerialized beside Hermione. "As you get better at it, you can skip the step where you pull out your thought first. That's just a sort of middleman at this point."

"Well?" Mad-Eye demanded of Harry. "Are you going to try it or are you going to write me a theory?"

Harry hurriedly raised his wand. _"Expecto Patronum!"_

His large, silver Patronus burst out of his wand, galloping -

Only it wasn't galloping.

It was _flying._

Everyone stopped and gaped at his Patronus, which was now soaring around his head.

"Harry," Hermione said tentatively, lowering her wand, "I-I thought your Patronus was a _stag_."

Harry nodded mutely. _So did I. _Were they all hallucinating?

"It's a _phoenix_," Tonks whispered in awe.

Mad-Eye was looking at Harry strangely. "Potter, when's the last time you conjured your Patronus?"

_The last time...? _Harry couldn't remember having cast the charm at all last year; he hadn't come in contact with dementors since...

"I don't - "

"Was it before or after Dumbledore's death?" Mad-Eye asked bluntly.

"B-before," Harry stammered. What did Dumbledore have anything to do with -

_Dumbledore. His Patronus was a phoenix! But then..._

"Mad-Eye," Lupin said. "We don't have time." Harry could almost hear the unspoken message: _We'll talk about this later._

Mad-Eye still had a strange expression on his face. "Right, get back to work," he barked at Tonks, who hastily turned back to Hermione's Patronus. "Now, Potter, a message. Tell me your name and date of birth."

Harry took a deep breath and tried to think of his message, but the silver phoenix hovering before him proved to be incredibly distracting.

_Harry James Potter. Why did my Patronus change? July thirty-first. How can it be a phoenix, when that was Dumbledore's? 1980. What does this _mean?

When he pulled his wand away, there was a silver strand at the end of it. He held his wand out to the phoenix, which took the strand in its beak. It then vanished and reappeared beside Mad-Eye, who tapped the phoenix and cocked his head.

"Put it out of your mind, Potter," he snapped. Harry grimaced; apparently he'd sent _all _his thoughts with his Patronus. "Focus. Do it again."

Harry spent another half-hour relaying various messages to Mad-Eye, who pushed him to complete the process faster and faster. By the time Lupin and Ron rejoined them, Harry could convey messages of any length in less than five seconds and was so worn out that he had forgotten about the phoenix.

"How did it go?" Lupin asked them, followed by a dejected-looking Ron.

"Excellent," Mad-Eye said, giving Harry a crooked grin. "They learn fast." Tonks nodded in agreement.

"Well, that's it for today, then," Lupin said. "Remember; practice this one on your own. We'll be working on a different spell every week."

Tonks pointed her wand at Harry and Ron. "And we need you two to practice Apparition," she said with a wink.

"Yes," Lupin agreed. "We'll notify you sometime next week."

"Now get out," Mad-eye growled.

Tonks made a face at him. "You're horrible," she said, shaking her head. "Enjoy your weekend!" she added to them as they made their way toward the door.

"Thanks," Harry said as he waved and stepped out of the room.

Ron groaned as he pulled the door shut and started back toward Gryffindor Tower. "Did you _see _my Patronus," he muttered despondently. "Flimsy little cloud of _nothing…"_

"It takes practice, you know; it's a hard spell," Harry said, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

"Or maybe that's just what your Patronus looks like," Hermione smirked. "It _does _reflect the caster, after all."

* * *

Temperatures dropped so steeply the following day that students took to wearing gloves and scarves in the corridors. Hermione had an Arithmancy class right after breakfast, while Harry and Ron retreated to the library to look for more books on the Founders. They staggered out an hour later, both laden with heavy tomes. 

"This is ridiculous," Ron grumbled. "It'll take forever to pick out relevant stuff from all these pages."

Harry grunted. "Too bad we can't shrink these," he muttered.

"Harry! Ron!"

They turned around slowly, careful not to lose their precarious grips on any of the books, to see Ginny running toward them.

"What is it?" Harry asked, alarmed. He set down his books on the ground. "Did something happen?"

"It's Hagrid!" Ginny said breathlessly, stopping before him. "He's come back – I saw the lights on in his hut this morning."

"Hagrid?" Ron asked dubiously. "Back?"

"Yes, Hagrid, half-giant, gamekeeper, about three times my height?" she said impatiently.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well then, we've got to go see him!"

"Now?" Ron said in dismay, looking down at the books in his arms. At the same time, Ginny said, "Me?"

"Well, you don't have to if you don't – "

"'Course I do," she interrupted briskly. "Let's go."

"What about the books?" Ron demanded.

Harry blew his cheeks out. "I dunno, shove them behind a suit of armor or something," he said impatiently.

"And have Madam Pince murder you in your bed?" Ginny snorted.

"_Fine,"_ Harry growled. He whipped out his wand and tapped the books, which promptly vanished. "Satisfied? Now let's go."

Ron and Ginny exchanged astonished looks as Harry disappeared down the stairs.

"What did he just do?" Ron asked slowly.

"Bugger if I know," Ginny shrugged. "C'mon, or Harry'll go by himself."

Ron and Ginny caught up to Harry in the Great Hall, where he had just received permission to go outside from Professor Flitwick. It was another quarter of an hour, however, before they could find an Auror to take them down to Hagrid's.

He was a grim-looking, scrubby-bearded fellow whose dark eyes darted from here to there as they tramped through the snow. Harry suspected he was convinced they'd be attacked by a horde of Death Eaters that were hiding behind a bush.

They made it to Hagrid's door unscathed, however, and the man stiffly told them that he would wait by the pumpkin patch until they were ready to return.

Harry was just about to pound on the door when it swung open to reveal Hagrid bundled in a large overcoat, restraining a drooling Fang by the collar. "No, Fang, I told yeh – git _back, _yeh great – Harry?"

"Hi Hagrid," Harry said with an uncertain smile.

"What're yeh – is that Ron? Ginny? Where – yeh didn' come by yerself, did yeh?" he asked suspiciously.

"There's an Auror back there," Harry said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the Auror standing nearby, apparently impervious to the weather. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Got ter tell the Headmistress summat," Hagrid grunted. "_Down, _Fang. What're you two doin' down here? An' where's Hermione?"

"She's got Arithmancy," Harry said. "We just came to visit since you – uh – haven't been here in a while."

"Yeah," Hagrid panted, still struggling with Fang. He finally managed to get the door shut before the boarhound could get out. "Damn dog. You three've got ter be freezin'. Let's go."

"We're going back," Harry told the Auror as he, Ron, and Ginny retraced their steps to the castle, Hagrid stomping along beside them.

The Auror looked slightly disgruntled at having been dragged from his post to take three students down to a hut they spent barely a minute at, but nodded wordlessly.

"So where _have _you been?" Harry asked. "Everyone was wondering why you weren't here at the beginning of the year."

Hagrid cast a guarded look at the Auror, who seemed to be paying no attention whatsoever to their conversation. "Went ter see the giants again," he said confidentially.

"You _what?"_ Harry and Ron exclaimed, just as Ginny, who didn't know about Hagrid's first attempt two years ago, said, _"Again?"_

"Quiet!" Hagrid whispered fiercely, his eyes still on the Auror, who seemed completely disinterested.

"For what?" Harry demanded in softer tones. "I thought you said the Death Eaters persuaded the Gurg to join Voldemort!"

"Tha' was two years ago," Hagrid said dismissively.

"Dad said the Ministry was debating whether or not to send some envoy to see if they could work out an alliance," Ginny put in, "but most people thought there weren't enough giants left to make much of a difference in the war, so it never happened."

Hagrid nodded sadly. "Aren' too many left, tha's fer sure," he agreed. "But giants can be very useful."

They had reached the entrance doors, which their Auror escort signaled for to be opened. He then gave Harry a curt nod and disappeared around a corner.

"So what happened? Who's 'we'?" Harry inquired as they made their way toward the marble staircase.

"Olympe offered ter go again, o' course," Hagrid shrugged. "But she's got enough ter worry 'bout with 'er school an' all. I took Grawp."

Harry stopped short. "You took _Grawp?"_ he said incredulously. Ginny was looking at him quizzically; neither he, Ron, nor Hermione had told her about Hagrid's half-brother.

"You're _mad,_" Ron said grimly.

"Well, 'e's a giant, isn't 'e?" Hagrid said nonchalantly. "Taught 'im some more English and a bit o' magic over the summer, so I thought 'e could help."

"You taught – he went – well, did it work?" Harry demanded. "Did the giants…"

Hagrid smiled for the first time, his beetle-black eyes crinkling. He was faring well, Harry thought, considering the blow Dumbledore's death had dealt him. "Yeah. Yeah, they did. Now I've got ter talk to the Headmistress, I'll see yeh later."

Harry and Ron watched Hagrid stump down the corridor with their mouths hanging open. "He got – the _giants _– "

"Either of you mind telling me what – or who – Grawp is?" Ginny asked a bit impatiently.

"What? Oh, Grawp…" They started off toward the common room as Harry explained Hagrid's half-brother – and the failed mission Hagrid and Olympe had embarked on two years ago – to her.

"So that's who he was," she said thoughtfully. "He was at the funeral, but I didn't think it was the time to ask who he was."

"Yeah. But that's brilliant, that is, getting the giants… Wonder how he did it?" Ron mused.

"Does it matter? Mind you, Bill's said it's hard to trust giants," Ginny said doubtfully as they reached the seventh floor. "They kill each other so often it's hard to know which one's in charge and what they believe."

Harry furrowed his brows at this – it was precisely what had happened the last time around, when Golgomath had killed Karkus, who had seemed to favor Hagrid rather than the Death Eaters, and decided to join the Dark side. "If Hagrid says we've got them, he must have persuaded them _somehow_," he settled for saying. "He wouldn't have told us, or come back at all, if he didn't think he could trust them." It was also a good indication that Hagrid had returned without the motley collection of bruises and cuts he had acquired last time.

"I suppose," Ginny said, still sounding a bit noncommittal. "He was a bit vague on how he knew the giants were up for trading sides, though, wasn't he? I mean, he couldn't have just walked up to them if he'd known they were still loyal to Voldemort."

They had approached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who appeared to have been dozing until she heard their footsteps.

"Hello, dears," she said with a wide yawn.

"Everlasting Icicles," Harry told her.

"Right nuisance they can be, too," the Fat Lady said conversationally as she swung open. "Everlasting, yes, but not drip-free – "

"Harry!"

The exclamation was accompanied by loud, hurried footsteps, and Harry craned his neck around the Fat Lady's portrait in surprise. Hermione came flying down the corridor, arms flapping in her excitement.

"Harry, I've been looking for you everywhere," Hermione said breathlessly as she skidded to a stop before him. "Oh, hi, Ron, hi Ginny. Listen," she continued without waiting for any replies, "I overheard Professor McGonagall talking to Professor Blackthorn and Professor Flitwick after breakfast, and apparently they'd sent someone out to the Forbidden Forest as an envoy of sorts – Parvati thinks it's Firenze, but I don't know – because they just received news that some of the centaurs have agreed to fight for Hogwarts, and the merpeople will, too, in Dumbledore's honor, and probably because they'd want to defend the lake…"

"Wow," Ginny said.

"That – that's great," Harry said, still a bit shocked at the deluge of information. "But the centaurs – how did they manage to convince the _centaurs?_"

He could still vividly recall their reaction when he and Hermione had led Umbridge in to the forest in fifth year, mistakenly thinking they would happily get rid of her for them. They were like giants, Hagrid had told them, in that they were mistrustful of wizards and magic. Harry supposed that they had sufficient reason to, of course, but considering the choice was either them or Voldemort, he couldn't quite fathom why they were so reluctant.

He could see that Hermione remembered the Umbridge incident, too; she gave him a shrug. "I've no idea, really, but as long as we've got them, it's one thing less to worry about, isn't it?"

"Sorry to interrupt your lovely conversation, but are you planning to go in, or shall I just hang here?" the Fat Lady asked irritably.

"Oh, sorry!" Hermione said. "I didn't see – let's go in, shall we?" She climbed through the portrait hole after Ginny, and Harry clambered in after them as the Fat Lady grumbled about "ungrateful students."

"Well, I suppose it's an improvement on the situation," Harry sighed as he collapsed into an armchair near the fireplace. Ron and Ginny flopped down on the couch across from him. "So now we've got the centaurs, merpeople, Aurors, the Order, and some students against Voldemort and his bloody Death Eaters, not to mention Dementors and werewolves and who knows what else."

"Oh, don't be so sour," Hermione admonished, perching on the arm of his chair. "It's actually not as bad as it sounds."

"It isn't, is it?" Harry growled. "Face it, if Voldemort wants Hogwarts, he isn't going to let a bunch of students and a handful of the Forbidden Forest's creatures stop him."

"Don't forget, we've got the giants, too," Ginny reminded him.

Hermione turned on Harry. "What? What giants?"

"Hagrid's back, and he told us he'd just come back from another envoy mission with the giants," Harry explained.

Hermione's mouth became a big 'o'. "By himself?" she demanded.

"No, with Grawp," Harry said, shaking his head. "Dunno how he did it, but he got them on our side."

"Well, that's wonderful!" Hermione said, beaming. "See, we have a chance against Voldemort!"

"Hermione, just because – "

"Hey, isn't that Hedwig?" Ron said suddenly, pointing to the window.

Sure enough, there was a snowy owl tapping its talons against the ice-encrusted panes, a scrap of parchment tied to its leg.

"Hedwig!" Harry leapt off the armchair and strode quickly to his owl, yanking the window open to let her in. Hedwig gave a disgruntled hoot as she landed on Harry's shoulder, ruffling her feathers as she stuck out her leg.

"Who's it from?" Ginny inquired, leaning over the back of the couch.

"I dunno, but I don't remember sending Hedwig to anyone," Harry said, frowning. He freed the parchment and stroked Hedwig's head before letting her fly back out the window. Walking back toward the fireplace, he slowly unfolded the ragged note. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione huddled around him to read it.

_Harry, we couldn't reach Professor McGonagall so we need you to tell her, Hagrid, and Professor Drake –  
Beauxbatons has been attacked.  
Lupin_

* * *

Up Next: What's up with Harry's Patronus? And is Sirius still alive? Lost eyebrows aren't only Ron Weasley's problem, but Christmas can always cheer everyone up. 

Please don't forget to review! At least five people would be a record... :P


	12. Christmas Joys and Other Things

Merlin's bloody beard, all those responses just knocked us off our feet. Profuse thanks go out to all of you. :) We also apologize for any misspellings or missing punctuation...the site is pretty much eating our documents on a daily basis.**  
**

* * *

**Christmas Joys and Other Things**** – **_"We cannot hold a torch to light another's path without brightening our own." – Ben Sweetland_

The weeks leading up to the holidays were fraught with fatigue and frustration. Trying to stay on top of classes was hard enough, and with the added worry of Beauxbatons' fate hanging over the school, Harry's patience was vanishing at an alarming rate. It was nearly impossible, on top of all this, to find time to practice spells and delve further into the matter of Horcruxes.

Fortunately, Hermione's genius provided a new solution. She suggested that they divide Potter's Army – whose meetings were the only thing Harry even remotely looked forward to – into three sections: one that would focus on searching for Horcruxes and useful spells; another that would center on practicing spells and prepare for dueling; and a third that would specialize in antidotes and healing magic. Harry thought these were especially useful divisions, as they would lessen his own load and provide alternate duties for those students who weren't as adept at spellcasting but still wanted to help.

Neville took charge of the Healing-magic group after much protesting on his part and persuading on Hermione's; he agreed at last on the condition that he would co-supervise with a sixth-year Ravenclaw named John Tyler whose passion was potions. Hermione in turn led the research team along with Ernie Macmillan (who was the victim of much glowering from Ron) and Harry, of course, was given command of the last division.

The choice of which team to join had been left entirely up to the students. Harry and Ginny had sincerely doubted that the method would work ("Just _look_ at Romilda Vane!"), but the teams ended up in good proportions. Harry's section was slightly larger than the others, and the majority was made up of older students from Gryffindor (including Romilda Vane) and, surprisingly, Slytherin. The younger ones had spread themselves equally between Neville's and Hermione's groups, although there was a considerably larger number of Ravenclaws in the research team.

Concerning the latter, it was still disconcerting for Harry to see that so many people knew about the Horcruxes. And _he _knew that keeping secrets for long – especially a secret that was shared by over two dozen people – was impossible inside Hogwarts and that there was no shortage of eavesdroppers, so he heartily approved when Hermione suggested they mark everyone with a "nasty jinx" she had developed that would instantly affect anyone that mentioned forbidden topics to or in the presence of non-members.

In addition to the knowledge of various secrets, the use of the names "Dark Dork" and "Death Gobblers" had also spread prolifically; it was particularly popular with younger students and many others who were not a part of the PA. An ecstatic Hermione had even said that she'd heard the terms used numerous times at the staff table.

Harry reveled in how much weight the PA took off his shoulders. It was also much easier for him to teach now that he was dealing with older students; their experience meant that he didn't have to waste time going through the more basic spells. Instead, he focused mostly on spells that were quick and simple but effective in melee situations; he also emphasized teamwork and cooperation.

"Houses don't matter anymore," was the first thing he told them, "and I don't care whether your families have had a blood feud or something." He reinforced his point by pairing himself with a fifth-year Slytherin to practice the Jelly-Fingers Curse.

All in all, things seemed to be going well in the Horcrux department. The Ravenclaws especially seemed eager to use their intuition and resources to delve into Hogwarts' and the Founders' histories, as well as any other leads Hermione and Ernie thought up – of which there seemed to be plenty. Several Ravenclaw sixth years had teamed up with Hufflepuff seventh years to focus exclusively on their Founders' possessions – particularly Hufflepuff's Cup.

"It's actually going really well," Hermione said happily as she, Harry, Ron, and Ginny bid goodbye to the PA after a long, weekend-night meeting. "We've really narrowed things down. Anthony and Terry even agreed to ask Professor Flitwick if he knows anything interesting about Rowena Ravenclaw."

"How come he's not part of the Order?" Ginny inquired as they made their way to Gryffindor Tower. "Seems like he'd be really useful, and if Professor McGonagall trusts him enough to make him Deputy Headmaster…"

Ron shrugged. "I suppose they have their reasons."

Harry frowned. "I've been wondering that too. We should ask Remus or someone the next time we see them."

"Well we _are_ going to the Burrow for Christmas," Hermione reminded them. "We can ask about him then – and what's going on with Beauxbatons."

"There'd have to be a lot of Death Eaters to destroy a school like that, though," Harry said grimly. "And Madame Maxime would have told Hagrid if things were really bad."

"Yeah, she _is _a giant, right?" Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow. "Or at least a half-giant or something."

"Probably," Harry shrugged. "Otherwise we'd have to redefine 'big-boned.'"

They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who had seemed to be dozing until they walked up.

"Oh, hello, dears," she yawned.

"_Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus,"_ Ron said.

The Fat Lady raised her eyebrows as she swung open. "I would suggest working on your Latin pronunciation, dear," she said dryly.

Ginny and Hermione stifled their laughter as a red-faced Ron climbed through the portrait hole.

"Well, I'm going to sleep," Ginny announced, heading toward the girls' dormitory; Hermione followed her, nodding in agreement. "'Night."

"I guess we are too, then," Harry shrugged, looking at Ron.

"Best idea you've had all week," Ron mumbled, his eyes already half-closed as he began climbing the stairs to their dormitory.

Neville, Dean, and Seamus were already in their beds and slumbering. Harry and Ron quickly changed into their pajamas and bid each other goodnight. Harry pulled the curtains around his four-poster and removed his glasses, yawning widely. Thank Merlin that it was almost Christmas; even though he felt slightly guilty about it, he was looking forward to spending at least a couple hours not thinking about Horcruxes and spells and classes. He could also talk to Remus about several things he'd been meaning to discuss for the past few weeks but hadn't gotten around to, like Aberforth Dumbledore, Beauxbatons, and Professor Flitwick…and maybe even his parents and the rest of his family. There was also the matter of Durmstrang being a potential target; if Beauxbatons had been attacked, there was no reason why Voldemort wouldn't go after Durmstrang, too.

He'd have to ask Hermione about that, since she still seemed to correspond with Viktor Krum – maybe he should write it down before he forgot about it...

He sighed and groped around for his glasses again as he reached down to pull out his trunk. Shoving the glasses on with one hand, he rummaged around his trunk with the other, muttering, "Quill, quill," under his breath. He was _sure _he'd had several extras in here…

With a grunt of frustration, he slid down to the floor and repositioned his trunk so that it lay in a pool of moonlight. As he delved through a stack of notes, heaps of candy wrappers, and a pair of socks, he suddenly came across something hard, small, and flat. He couldn't imagine what he'd have in his possession that would fit this description, and he pulled it out.

It was a mirror.

No – it was _the _mirror. _Sirius' _mirror.

He stared at it for a moment. He remembered he had fixed it again before packing at the end of fifth year, because he hadn't been able to bear the thought of throwing it away. And he'd kept it in his trunk because even if it didn't work, it was still a part of Sirius…and maybe because he still held onto the irrational hope that somehow – _somehow_ – they'd all been wrong…Sirius wasn't gone, not _really…_

He climbed back onto his bed and lay on his back, quill forgotten, with the mirror held in front of his face. Sirius hadn't had the mirror on him when he fell through the veil. That's why he hadn't answered, right?

_But why would he have forgotten? Sirius would have had it with him, at all times, just in case…just in case I called him…_

He turned the mirror over, where on the reverse side Sirius had scribbled his message. _James and I…separate detentions…_

And suddenly, he was struck with a thought.

_If they used it during detentions…they wouldn't have called each other by their names. Not with a teacher standing there, who would have found out what they were doing. Sirius would have called Dad James…and Dad would have called Sirius…Padfoot._

He swallowed hard. _Padfoot._

That's what he'd forgotten. Sirius hadn't come because Harry hadn't called him by the right name. That was it. And now, if he called Padfoot, Sirius would come, he would appear in the mirror and Harry could talk to him again, at last…

He squeezed his eyes shut. His blood was pounding in his ears. _Please._

"Padfoot," he whispered.

He kept his eyes closed for an extra moment before letting them fly open. His breath had misted the surface of the mirror, and he quickly wiped it off with his sleeve as he eagerly searched for Sirius' face.

The eyes that looked back at him were his own, green and shining with anticipation.

"Padfoot," he whispered. "Padfoot!"

His reflection gazed anxiously back at him.

He rolled over onto his side and tried to keep the tears burning in his eyes from spilling out.

_Sirius is gone._

He fell asleep hours later, still clutching the mirror in his hand.

* * *

"So there's Hufflepuff's Cup, of course, possibly Nagini, and a relic of Ravenclaw's," Hermione mused. "Professor Flitwick told Anthony and Terry that Rowena Ravenclaw's most valuable possessions consisted of a golden flute inscribed with her name and a shield of sorts, goblin-made…" 

"But does anyone know _where _any of these things are?" Ron asked. "What's the point in knowing _what _a Horcrux is if we don't know _where _it is?"

"Well if we know _what_ we're looking for, it'll be easier to find, won't it?" Hermione said snappishly.

Harry rolled his eyes. He was sitting cross-legged in one of the armchairs in the Burrow's living room, trying to practice Occlumency. Ginny was perched on the arm of the sofa, watching Hermione and Ron debate.

They had arrived at the Burrow safe and content three days ago, much to Mrs. Weasley's relief. According to Fred and George, who had dropped by to meet them, she had been concocting dramatic scenarios in which the four of them had been abducted, tortured, killed, or any number of other horrendous things on their way here. She'd given them all wet kisses and rib-crushing hugs as they stumbled out of the fireplace in turn. ("Aw, come off it, Mum, it's only fair that you give the Death Eaters a shot at them first!")

Until about an hour ago, Harry and Ron had been practicing Apparition under Hermione, Fred, and George's supervision.Harry's first attempt had been made a week before with Remus and Mad-Eye looking on, who told him he was "getting the hang of it." He had, in fact, gotten nowhere; his best effort had resulted in his eyebrows traveling to their destination without him. Apparently the experience he'd built up last year during the Apparition sessions with Twycross had vanished over the summer.

"So maybe if we put you and Ron together, you'd get _all _the parts," Fred had said, grinning at him when he told them.

"Sod off," Ron had muttered sulkily; he had gone without his eyebrows again.

But after endeavoring fruitlessly to Apparate up the stairs for the better part of the afternoon, Harry had called quits, claiming he would rather be flushed down a toilet. He had declined Fred and George's offer to help him with this.

"...At least we have an _idea _of where they could be," Hermione was saying crossly. "Voldemort wouldn't have just hid them _anywhere."_

"Even if we do find out what and where they are, how are we going to get them?" Ginny asked, folding her arms across her chest. "I doubt anyone's going to let us go charging across Europe to find Horcruxes."

"Well, since it's not secret anymore, we can just ask the Order to come with us," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "They can hardly forbid it."

"But what if they try to stop Harry from destroying it?" Ron demanded. "The only reason they didn't interfere when we had the locket was because they didn't know, and since _everyone _knows what happens when a Horcrux is destroyed now, how do we know they're not going to, I dunno, take it away – "

The argument went on this fashion for quite some time as Harry doggedly sought to block out their voices; when he finally decided to give up, Ron and Hermione had irately gone their separate ways. Fortunately, Harry was saved from any awkward thoughts on his part about being alone with Ginny when Bill ("No Fleur, thank Merlin!") and Charlie arrived to help decorate the house.

–––––

Ron was rudely awakened on Christmas morning by the twins, who barged into his room with a sound like cannon fire.

"It's Christmas!" Fred announced in his ear, grinning like an old tomcat and looking like a nutter with a red and white sock on his head. George broadcasted the same news to Harry on the other side of the room.

"Bloody _hell,"_ Ron muttered, clutching his chest and slowly sitting up. Harry gave George a look that said the same thing as he cast around for his glasses.

"Get up, you lazy bums, it's already six!" Fred said, snatching up the bulging stocking that had been lying over the end of Ron's bed and shaking it under his nose. "Don't you want to see what Saint Nick decided not to give you this year?"

"Or maybe," George said, putting on a thoughtful air, "if our information isn't faulty, what a certain person – a certain _girl _– "

"Give me that," Ron snarled, swiping the stocking and hugging it protectively to his chest.

Fred gave him a cheery grin and mussed his hair. "All in the Christmas spirit, bro."

Harry, who had found his glasses, was reaching for his own stocking. "Aren't you two a bit too old to be enjoying Christmas so much?" he asked. "And why do you have a sock on your head?"

Fred looked shocked. "No one's ever too old for Christmas!" he declared. "And this" – he pointed to his sock – "is part three of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes' promotion of All Things Muggle. It's a Christmas special."

"Formed an alliance with your dad, have you?" Harry yawned.

"As a matter of fact, we haven't," George said. "But good idea, mate. Thanks."

Ron snorted.

"No problem," Harry said, rooting through his stocking.

"Well, we've got some business now, so we'll be off," Fred said with a little wave.

"Enjoy your presents!" George added with a knowing smile at Ron. They Disapparated with a loud _crack._

"Gits," Ron said in a conversational tone. He began emptying the contents of his stocking out on his bed. His presents included the usual hand-knitted sweater from Mum, a large bag of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes' _All Things Muggle – Christmas special_ products, a fake spider from Ginny (which he chucked at the door, swearing, as Harry cracked up), and a bag of assorted sweets from Hermione…and a white envelope.

"Good haul?" Harry asked, flipping through a large book that Hermione had presumably given him.

"Mmm," Ron said, popping a Pepper Imp into his mouth as he examined the envelope. It was medium-sized and rectangular, with no sign of writing on it – no mention of recipient or sender.

Harry nodded as he folded up his stocking. "No necklace this year?" he joked as he stood up to change out of his pajamas.

"Thank Merlin, no," Ron groaned. He flipped the envelope over; still nothing. Had it been dropped into his stocking by mistake? If it contained a letter meant for someone else – a _love _letter, Merlin forbid – then he didn't want to read it, not on his life.

"What did you do with that other one, anyway?" Harry asked.

Ron frowned. "Haven't the slightest idea, and I couldn't care less."

"Better hope – who's that from?" Harry asked curiously, spotting the envelope in his hands.

"Dunno," Ron shrugged, debating whether or not to open it. "It doesn't say."

Harry slapped him on the back with a mischievous grin. "Only one way to find out, right mate? I'm going down to breakfast."

As Ron watched Harry leave, he had a strange feeling that Harry knew what the envelope contained and who it was from – and that grin could only mean…

His eyes widened as he looked back at the envelope in his hands.

_No way._

He could hear his heart banging around in his chest. It was impossible. They'd just had a row (granted, it had been relatively mild) and she hadn't talked to him since. He couldn't see her apologizing for anything, either, even if it _was _Christmas.

_Then again…_

Taking a deep breath, he slit the envelope open and pulled out a card. It was a typical Christmas card, with a picture of a gnome dressed up as an angel sitting on a Christmas tree. He grinned; he'd forgotten about that poor gnome.

He opened the card, heart thudding at what he expected – what he would find.

Harry's scrawl dominated the top part:

_Merry Christmas, mate! We asked Remus if we could keep your eyebrows and give them back on Christmas, but Tonks said you looked too ridiculous without them._

The next line was written in Ginny's hand:

_I agree with Tonks. You'd think any change to your face would be an improvement, but I've been proved wrong. Merry Christmas!_

And last, Hermione's:

_You two are insufferable. Don't worry Ron, I think I could still bear to be seen with you even if you lost your eyebrows permanently. There are worse things that could happen. Merry Christmas!_

_Love,_

_Hermione, Harry, and Ginny_

Ron reread the card; one part of him was indignantly cross with Harry and Ginny for bringing up the eyebrows again, and the other part kept whispering Hermione's note over and over in his head. _I think I could still bear to be seen with you even if you lost your eyebrows permanently…_

And then, underneath the signatures, more words started appearing in Harry and Ginny's handwriting.

_P.S. Psst, Ron! Take some advice from us. We wouldn't steer you wrong on Christmas, honestly. Ready? Here goes – SHUT UP AND KISS HER ALREADY!_

–––––

Harry smirked at him all through breakfast and the rest of the morning. Hermione remained oblivious to everything, unaware that Harry and Ginny kept making kissing faces at him behind her back as they added final touches to the decorations. The situation only worsened when the rest of his brothers arrived, since Harry and Ginny had evidently told them about their card – Fred and George prodded and poked him every time he passed them (one time even going so far as to trip Hermione so that she had to grab Ron's shirt to keep from falling) and Charlie would stand beside Hermione and tell her stories about embarrassing things Ron had done when he was little. Ginny would also listen in on these anecdotes and howl with continuous laughter.

Even Bill was in on it; "It's about time, kid," he said with a wink as he passed by carrying a plate of hors d'oeuvres into the living room.

Ron spent the hours leading up to dinner skittishly avoiding any room Hermione was in and constantly scanning the ceilings for mistletoe. He was _definitely _going to get Harry and Ginny back for this…

–––––

Lupin, Tonks, and Mad-Eye made their entrance at six-thirty sharp, and the house was full of bustling people and wonderful aromas. Celestina Warbeck was belting out a Christmas song on the wireless on the counter (Mrs. Weasley watched it like a hawk, preventing anyone from switching the station) and there was carefree laughter of the kind that hadn't been heard in months.

Harry basked in the lighthearted banter and all the cheerful faces around him. He moved around the kitchen with a perpetual smile on his face, already filling himself up on appetizers and smirking with Fred and George as they watched Ron warily skirt through rooms to steer clear of Hermione.

Ron was not, however, the only one feeling edgy. Although he and Ginny had teamed up to write Ron's card and alternately grin wickedly at him for the rest of the day, he hadn't really had any conversations or made real eye contact with her since morning.

_If only she'd say something,_ he lamented as he watched her laughing at something Mad-Eye had told her. _Anything!_

At least Ron didn't have to worry about a certain _something _he'd had Hermioneput in _somebody's _stocking that morning. Between wondering if _somebody _had found it yet and what _somebody's _reaction would be when the _something _was found, he was beginning to question whether the putting of the _something _in _somebody's _stocking had been a good idea.

What if she didn't like it? Hermione had assured him numerous times that it was _perfect,_ but what if she didn't _really _know what Ginny liked? What if she thought it was pointless, or stupid, or…_annoying?_ _What if, what if, what if…_ Maybe he shouldn't have given it to her; maybe it was just stupid worrying on his part. _Maybe, maybe, maybe…_

He could still get away; feign sickness and just hide in Ron's room until –

But then he'd been pushed into the kitchen, filled to bursting with red-haired Weasleys, Hermione, Lupin, Tonks, and Mad-Eye, and Mrs. Weasley pulled him into a warm hug that smelled of potatoes and gravy. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ginny saying something to Tonks; whatever she'd said made Tonks laugh loudly and knock over the salt shaker.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, once she let go of him. "Thanks for the sweater."

"My pleasure, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, beaming at him. "Merry Christmas to you, too."

"By the way, Bill, where's Fleur?" Charlie asked over the din Fred and George were making, apparently trying to give Remus a demonstration of Conciliatory Elixir by pouring some of it into Mrs. Weasley's glass of juice.

"Visiting her parents," Bill said, shrugging. "We agreed she'd spend three days here, three days there since neither of us could lug our families across the country."

"And thank Merlin for that," Hermione said under her breath, popping up by Harry's elbow and unwittingly saving him from a desperate inner struggle; he was trying to avoid looking at Ginny and thereby narrow the chances of making eye contact with her, but standing alone in the middle of the kitchen and staring at his feet would have looked suspicious.

Harry grinned at her. "Merry Christmas, Hermione. Thanks for the book.

Hermione hugged him. "You too, Harry. Thank _you _for the book. So, have you talked to Ginny yet?"

"Er, no," Harry said. "So she – she got it?"

"Of course she did, I stuck it right in her sweater," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Fell out right into her lap."

"So she – it's good? I mean, she likes it?" Harry asked, annoyed at how anxious he sounded.

"I don't know, go talk to her," Hermione said maddeningly, her neutral tone disclosing nothing. Despite himself, Harry chanced a glance at Ginny, who had bent over to retrieve something.

"Sit down, Harry, we want to show you something," said Fred, who had miraculously turned up behind him with George, saving Harry yet again; Ginny had just resurfaced and looked his way. He allowed the twins to steer him into a chair beside Remus. They sat across from him, one seat away from Ginny, and began to give him some background on what they were about to reveal.

Harry pretended he was incredibly engrossed in this conversation, keeping his eyes on the twins nearly the whole time (it actually _was _rather interesting; Ron joined in about two minutes later.) Ginny appeared to be engaged in serious conversation with Tonks and Hermione, too, and although _she_ didn't seem to be looking at him too often, Hermione kept kicking him under the table.

"…So this is the final product." Fred stuck his hand in his pocket and produced a bee.

"It's the ultimate irritation device," George said with a wicked grin. "We'll give you a demo – watch."

"It's not _real_, is it?" Ron asked, who had backed away as soon as the bee had been uncovered. Harry thought this was a stupid question; Fred couldn't have stashed a live bee in his pocket for the entire day.

"Of course it's not, you prat," George scoffed as Fred whispered something to the bee. "Plastic reincarnation, charmed to follow orders. There it goes!"

Fred had let the bee go; it seemed to look around for a moment, then dove under the table. Harry instinctively scooted back, but Fred and George were tracking its progress down past Ginny, past Hermione, Tonks, Lupin, Mr. Weasley...

There followed the messiest dinner table, the most enraged Mrs. Weasley, and the most vociferous berating Harry had ever witnessed. Mrs. Weasley's arm sported a red bee sting mark that was swelling up by the second. Ginny had turned her face away and was silently laughing into her fist so hard there were tears running down her cheeks. Tonks and Ron fared no better, and Harry had to pinch himself to keep from joining in.

"Up to your room, now!" Mrs. Weasley bellowed, pointing out of the kitchen like a condemning god.

"Yes, Mum," Fred and George chorused meekly, the perfect picture of penitent children as they shuffled out. Fred winked at Harry as he passed him.

Mrs. Weasley took a deep, steadying breath and surveyed the rest of the diners. Ginny, Ron, and Tonks immediately sobered up and looked down at their plates. Still standing, she inspected the growing bump on her arm and sighed noisily. She looked up and instantly found Harry, who felt there was nothing he would like better than to sink into the floor and never be seen again. He nearly flinched when she opened her mouth.

"Harry, dear, you're finished, right?" Harry barely contained his sigh of relief. "I just read about the perfect charm for this kind of thing, but I left the book and my wand out in the living room. Would you mind getting them?"

Harry gave her a nervous smile. "Sure, Mrs. Weasley."

The book (_Common Household Ailments and How to Cure Them_) and the wand were sitting right where he'd seen them last night – on the little stand by the sofa. He picked both up and was just about to flip through the book when he heard a soft cough.

Startled, he looked up – and was further startled to see Ginny leaning against the doorframe, studying him with bright, dancing eyes.

"Hey," Harry said quickly, unable to think of any other greeting.

"Hey," she said, smiling a little. She pushed herself off the doorframe to stand straight, still watching him unnervingly.

He shuffled his feet, glancing down at the book in his hands, as if pleading for it to help him get out of this awkward situation. "I was, er, just getting your mum's book," he offered, halfheartedly holding it out toward her: hard evidence, just in case she didn't believe him.

She grinned widely. "She's gonna kill Fred and George," she said flippantly, too accustomed to the twins' jokes – and the consequences – to feel worried.

Harry managed a quick smile. "Yeah."

"They kept you pretty hooked, didn't they?" Her grin now had a very gleeful quality to it.

_She's teasing me_, he thought indignantly. "Yeah," he said, forcing himself to relax. "Those two are pretty ingenious."

She took a step forward, then another, and another…until suddenly there was nothing between them but a flimsy book. All pretenses of composure fled him. If she couldn't hear his heart pounding, he would have to advise one of those Muggle hearing aids...

He'd been so busy watching her face that he never noticed her hand going in her pocket. It wasn't until she brought her hand up to the level of his eyes that he remembered the whole reason he'd been afraid to approach her.

From her fingers dangled a thin gold chain, and from _that,_ there hung a silver phoenix.

The phoenix he had bought, because it reminded him of Fawkes and Dumbledore, because it symbolized the hope that lived on in so many people, because its brilliant, fiery plumage made him think of _her._

He swallowed hard, and couldn't think of anything to say.

"It's beautiful," she said softly, her eyes reflecting its glint. "Thank you."

All his worry, his fears, and the rest of the world seemed to fade with those words, and he wondered how he could ever have been nervous. He felt his own necklace warm against his chest, the counterpart of the one Ginny held, and thanked Merlin for Hermione.

She leaned forward, grinning as wide as he'd ever seen. She pointed up with her free hand, and he tilted his head back to gaze stupidly at a sprig of mistletoe.

"Mistletoe," she murmured unnecessarily.

"Nargles," he said, recalling that he'd said the same thing to Cho. But unlike Cho, Ginny understood perfectly.

"You've got Mum's wand," she said, and he could almost _feel _her smile.

This time, he grinned with her. "Merry Christmas."

–––––

Ron sat by the fire, half-listening to Mad-Eye recount one of his more exciting escapades as Auror to Harry, Ginny, Fred, George, and Tonks. Hermione was curled up in an armchair nearby, talking animatedly with Charlie and Lupin.

He had made up his mind exactly thirty-four minutes ago: he was going to do it. It was the _how _part that was troubling him. He had to get her alone, at least – he _definitely _wasn't doing anything with everyone watching him – but Hermione's conversation seemed endless.

"Hey, Ron," a voice said.

Ron turned to see Bill sit down beside him.

"Why the long face? No – let me guess," he said, his eyes sparkling. "Our brother got your girl?"

Ron felt a flush creep up his face.

"Don't worry, mate, I'll handle this," Bill grinned. Ron watched him mutely as he stood up and approached Charlie and Lupin. He bent down and whispered something in Charlie's ear, whose face split in a wide smile; he in turn whispered in Lupin's ear, and the three of them said something to Hermione. She waved at them as they walked away toward the kitchen. Charlie winked at him as he passed by.

_Bloody Merlin._

Harry, Ginny, and the twins had noticed that Hermione was alone; Ginny nudged Tonks and got her attention, too. The five of them sniggered at him and jerked their heads toward Hermione, who was staring into the fire with a faint smile on her face.

Ron sighed, trying to muster up some fabled Gryffindor courage, and got to his feet. Urged on by Harry, Tonks, and the rest of his brothers, he hesitantly approached her chair.

She looked up when his shadow fell over her.

"Hey," he said, trying to stay calm.

"Hi, Ron," she said with a smile. She nodded at the chair beside her, where Lupin had been sitting. "You can sit, you know."

He tried not to force his smile. "So, er…how're you doing?" Over Hermione's head he could see Bill and Charlie trying to get everyone engaged in conversations so that they wouldn't be looking at him.

"Well, it's nice to be able to relax," she said ruefully. "Your mum's food was excellent, as always."

"Yeah," he agreed, trying to find something else to say and coming up with nothing. They sat in an uncomfortable (for him, at any rate) silence for a while, until Hermione spoke up.

"Listen, Ron, I'm really sorry I got snappy at you yesterday," she said quietly. "I didn't mean to, and I'll try not to be so impatient from now on. I know you – "

"Hermione?" he interrupted suddenly. "I think I should kiss you."

She looked up at him, clearly startled. "What?"

"I think I should kiss you," he repeated, feeling more confident now that he'd said it out loud.

"Really?" she asked. Her cheeks were very pink. "Why's that?"

He gave her a lopsided grin and shrugged. "Because I'm running out of reasons why I shouldn't."

"Well," Hermione said tentatively, tugging at a strand of her hair, "I was kind of, you know, thinking somewhere along, um, the same lines."

"Were you?" Ron said, leaning closer to her. "At least we agree on something, then."

She looked into his eyes and smiled. His heart was tap-dancing against his ribs. She leaned forward, he leaned forward, closer, closer…he could see her eyelashes…

Her eyes slowly slid shut, and he instinctively let his do the same. Every fiber of his body was tensed with excitement. She was getting nearer and nearer, her breath sighing feather-light past his cheek…

His lips met hers, and Ron decided right away to put in on the list of the best moments of his life.

* * *

"Well, Harry, you're up early," Remus said, looking up from his coffee and newspaper as Harry came down the stairs. 

"I heard you get up," Harry shrugged, walking into the kitchen and taking a seat across from him. "I, er, wanted to talk to you."

Remus folded up the _Daily Prophet _and took a sip of coffee. "About?"

"I just had some questions," Harry ventured. "About things."

Remus smiled. "Fire away."

"Well, we were – that's Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and me – we were talking a couple days ago, and we realized that most of the Hogwarts teachers aren't in the Order," Harry said. "Haven't most of them been teaching for a long time? And people like Professor Flitwick; he'd be really useful, wouldn't he?"

Remus looked thoughtful. "Harry," he began, looking as if he were trying to find the right words, "most of the Hogwarts staff _is _in the Order. It's just that you haven't seen them. They're not as…active."

"Not as active?" Harry asked, knitting his eyebrows. "So they don't openly contribute or anything?"

Remus nodded slowly. "Something like that. They don't show their faces as much, either because they have family" – Harry had never entertained the notion of his teachers having _families, _although he supposed it was possible – "and don't want to risk their safety, or they feel that participating directly will hinder us rather than help us."

"So who exactly is in the Order?" Harry asked, frowning. "And what do they do?"

"From Hogwarts, there's Professor McGonagall and Hagrid, of course," Remus said, leaning back in his chair, "and Professor Flitwick, Professor Sprout, Professors Blackthorn and Drake, Firenze, and Madam Pomfrey."

"Firenze?" Harry asked in disbelief. "And Madam Pomfrey?"

Remus smiled. "Yes, although she really does prefer to keep a low profile. But she tells us she's become quite attached to you."

"I guess I've been in the Hospital Wing a lot," Harry said sheepishly.

"Nearly as much as James and Sirius, I daresay," Remus said with a chuckle. "She, Firenze, and Professor Flitwick gather information from Hogwarts and pass it along to Professor McGonagall, who in turn tells the rest of us. Professor Sprout provides us with ingredients for various potions and antidotes, and Professors Blackthorn and Drake keep an eye on the students. As for the others… Some, as you may have guessed, simply don't seem trustworthy to us – Argus Filch, for example."

Harry snorted. "He wouldn't get along too well with Fred and George anyway."

"So I imagine," Remus said dryly. "Professor Trelawney is extremely susceptible, to say the least, and Madam Pince isn't too fond of most former Hogwarts' students. We haven't approached Professor Sinistra or Professor Vector, although Professor Blackthorn says he's working on them, along with Madam Hooch."

Harry nodded. There was certainly much more happening than he was aware of, and now that he knew who the Order trusted, he knew who _he _could trust, should anything happen at Hogwarts. And Remus' mention of information gatherers had reminded of his next question.

"Remus, you know how you said some people gather information?" he asked. "Well, Professor Dumbledore – he has a brother, right?"

Remus sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I should have known you four would come upon it sooner or later," he said ruefully. "Yes, Professor Dumbledore has a brother."

"And he's alive," Harry said, suddenly hoping that they'd been right, that Aberforth _was_ here somewhere and could give them answers, tell them what happened… "Aberforth Dumbledore. He's part of the Order."

"He is," Remus confirmed, and offered nothing more.

"He's the barman at the Hog's Head," Harry said; it was half-statement, half-question. "He collects information by eavesdropping on the people that come there, and he passes – used to pass it on to Professor Dumbledore."

Again, Remus only nodded.

"But if he's Dumbledore's brother, why hasn't he – I mean, why doesn't he – "

"Give us answers?" Remus supplied. "We don't know. He's as much a mystery to us as he is to you. He corresponded mainly with his brother – or so we were told. He rarely showed himself to any of us, unless we went to the Hog's Head. I've only seen him twice."

"But he works in Hogsmeade," Harry persisted. "Why don't any of you just go find him?"

"Because," Remus said grimly, "he's not there anymore."

"_What?_"

Remus shook his head. "He's gone. Just got up and left, about a week after his brother's funeral. Hasn't been back since."

_That's impossible, _Harry thought angrily. _He can't just leave! _Just when he'd thought there was someone else that could answer all his questions, tell him what happened, and why…

"What about Beauxbatons?" he said bleakly, expecting the worst. "It hasn't fallen?"

"No," Remus said wearily. "The French Ministry sent Aurors to the school and managed to drive the Death Eaters in that area away. Madame Maxime asked for stronger wards and more security; Durmstrang is doing the same."

"Durmstrang hasn't been attacked too, has it?" Harry asked, startled.

"Not yet, but the new headmaster – his name's Konstantin Ivanov – thought it best to be prepared," Remus said, nodding in apparent approval of Ivanov. "He's one of the cleverest wizards out of his country. No one expects Durmstrang to be a major target, though, since the attendance rate there has fallen so sharply that there are hardly any students left. It's been suggested that they abandon the school and take residence in their ship – you've seen it?"

Harry, who still remembered the sight of the giant ship breaching the surface of the lake during fourth year, nodded.

"Ivanov says he's still debating it, but chances are he'll stay with the school," Remus said, shrugging.

Harry didn't ask the obvious question: _Is Hogwarts next? _Despite what Remus had said about Professors Blackthorn and Drake watching the students, nobody in the Order seemed to know about Potter's Army yet, and Harry felt that he preferred to keep it that way. Not that Harry didn't trust the Order – he just thought that everyone would work better if they did things of their own accord and not because an adult told them to. But if Hogwarts were to be attacked, he was fairly sure that the PA would be capable of holding their own, and he wanted to give the students a chance – even if it was risky – to prove themselves.

_Besides,_ Harry thought, looking at Remus, _the Order's got enough to handle. _He hated seeing how shabby and worn out Remus always looked. He only seemed to be getting worse as the year went on. Harry couldn't help wonder just what Remus was doing that kept him so busy, and what sort of drive Remus had that sustained him through all the years and all the losses. The kinship he'd felt when he and Remus had gone to Godric's Hollow only grew as he watched Remus sitting across from him, still able to muster a smile and laugh when he'd gone through so much pain.

"Remus?" Harry said.

"Hmm?"

"I've got one last question," he said, taking a deep breath. "Have…have you been taking Wolfsbane potion lately?"

An unreadable expression flashed across Remus' face; he didn't answer.

"You haven't, have you?" Harry said quietly. It was probably one of the reasons he looked so tired; without the potion, his transformations would be agonizing. "Can't anyone else make it?"

Remus smiled faintly. "It amazes me, sometimes, how much you're like James," he said. "He was always worrying about how I was doing, especially after he and Lily got married and couldn't come with me every month."

"Remus, if no one else knows how, I'll learn and do it myself," Harry said firmly. "You can't – I won't let you go through that pain by yourself. My dad and Sirius didn't, and I won't either."

Remus' eyes had glazed over. "Thank you for your concern, Harry," he said softly. "But I'm afraid Tonks has beaten you to it."

"Tonks – what?"

"She offered to brew Wolfsbane potion for me," Remus explained as he got up to refill his coffee cup. "I don't think I would quite trust whatever she concocts yet, but she promised to ask Mad-Eye for advice."

Harry couldn't help but grin. It made sense – Tonks would also have noticed what was plain to Harry, and she wouldn't have stood by and watched Remus suffer.

"I wish I could learn to be an Animagus," Harry said, blowing his cheeks out. "Tonks could transform, too, and then we could go with you."

"Just like old times," Remus said jokingly. He came to stand beside Harry and put a hand on his shoulder. "It obviously can't be done now, not with all this going on," he said softly. "But thank you for the offer. And maybe" – Harry heard the catch in his voice as he said the word; there had been so many maybes over the past – "Minerva can teach you later. An Animagus." He smiled. "I'd like that."

* * *

Up Next: Remus makes a choice and House unity becomes more than just a dream, but the Horcruxes remain ever elusive. And then there's this matter of some…unruly Muggles. (This one might be late because we...er...actually haven't finished writing it yet..) 

If we could hear from everyone that'd be great.. :)


	13. Suspicions

First off, sorry about the long delay here - we had a bit of a run-in with writer's block. It seems to be cured for now, but looks are always deceiving. :)

And as Moon Goddess so kindly pointed out, Harry already knows how to Apparate; but to go along with our original plot we'll pretend he doesn't. Yet.

* * *

**Suspicions -**_ "In joy and sorrow my home's in your arms."_

Kingsley Shacklebolt walked wearily into the living room of the Burrow, where various Order members greeted him. Tonks and Lupin waved to him from where they sat on the couch, and he shuffled over.

"Rough day?" Lupin asked in his quiet way, a corner of his mouth tugging upward in a smile.

Kingsley let out a sigh as he dropped into an armchair. "Absolutely mad," he muttered, shaking his head. "It's just getting worse."

"Did you two check the wards?" someone growled from behind them.

He and Tonks looked back to see Mad-Eye stumping toward them.

"I did," Tonks replied. "They're fine, Mad-Eye. Give it a rest."

"_That's _the kind of attitude that gets you killed," Mad-Eye said warningly, waggling his finger at her. "What did you bribe those Ministry blokes with to let you pass Auror training?"

Tonks grinned as she rolled her eyes; Kingsley supposed Mad-Eye was teasing, although he didn't think the ex-Auror was the sort of man that joked often. He smiled wolfishly at them before moving on to join Sturgis and Hestia in the far corner.

A hush fell in the room before they could say anything else – Kingsley turned to see that Minerva had arrived. Those who had been standing found seats as she greeted them.

"Thank you for coming," she began, settling down in a chair Molly provided for her. "I trust all of you know the agenda of tonight's meeting?"

There were grim nods all around.

"The first order of business, of course, is Horcruxes," Minerva said, turning expectantly to Bill, Charlie, Hestia, Sturgis; they had been put in charge of the search.

Bill cleared his throat nervously, getting ready to speak. Kingsley liked the eldest Weasley – he was an accomplished Curse-Breaker and a skilled wizard besides – and often regretted that Bill hadn't chosen to become an Auror.

"We're assuming, like Harry, that there are six Horcruxes," he said, starting with a summary, "for a total of seven pieces of soul. Two of these, Tom Riddle's diary and Marvolo Gaunt's ring, have already been destroyed. Harry destroyed Slytherin's locket in early November, which means half the Horcruxes are gone. We believe that the remaining three are former possessions of the Founders of Hogwarts. We've ruled out anything of Gryffindor's and Slytherin's, since Gryffindor's only known possessions are his sword and the Sorting Hat, and Slytherin's Horcrux was the locket."

There were nods and dour looks as Sturgis took up the report.

"This leaves any relics of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff as two potential Horcruxes. Harry thinks that a goblet that once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff is one of them, which he calls 'Hufflepuff's Cup.' Charlie and I have confirmed what Harry told us, but we still can't find any traces of it."

Hestia spoke next.

"Bill and I have been focusing on Rowena Ravenclaw. She had several valuable artifacts: One of them is a golden flute, inscribed with her name, which was a gift from Helga Hufflepuff; she had a blue and bronze shield, goblin-made; and there's also her wand. The flute and shield were handed down through subsequent generations of Ravenclaw's heirs, but her last scion died in 1924 in Holland and we don't know what he did with either of them. As for her wand, there's no record of it at all."

"Hold on," Mad-Eye said, raising a hand. "Even if we do find these artifacts, we don't know which one's the Horcrux, right?"

"No, not really," Bill answered. "But I'm working on a spell that might be able to identify them. It's a variation on the spells that are applied to Dark Detectors."

Kingsley was mildly surprised – and impressed – that Bill had thought of something like that; judging by the other looks of surprise around the room, he wasn't the only one.

"So say we _do _find these Horcruxes," Mad-Eye continued. "Do we keep letting Potter destroy them? He could end up killing himself."

"That's the thing," Lupin said, raising his voice to be heard over the whispers that had broken out. "Harry _has _to do it, because he's the only one that can. If any of us tried, the effects would be fatal."

"Not to mention that Harry wouldn't even _let _us try," Kingsley added dryly.

"Does that mean Harry has some sort of protection that we don't?" Tonks asked curiously.

No one seemed to have an answer. Kingsley had been wondering this himself - did it have something to do with him being the Boy Who Lived? Was it the scar and the fact – well, just speculation,really – that You-Know-Who had given Harry some of his powers the night he tried to kill him?

"Speaking of Harry," Lupin said suddenly, "Ginny told me something very interesting about him."

"Besides the fact that she was snogging his face off at Christmas?" Charlie said, raising his eyebrows.

There were some laughs; Molly looked flustered.

"Besides that," Lupin said amusedly. "It seems that he is much more skilled that we have previously thought. She told me that he's using nonverbal spells with increasing frequency and considerably less effort than his classmates, and has been seen performing complex spells of the sort that aren't even touched on in seventh year classes."

Tonks grinned and nudged Kingsley. "We've got another Auror on our hands," she whispered.

Kingsley agreed completely – if the kid made it out of the war unscathed, he would be prime Auror material.

"What sorts of spells?" Mad-Eye asked.

"He used the Exploding Curse to destroy Slytherin's locket," Minerva supplied. "He apparently learned it from a book over the summer."

Sturgis whistled.

"And he's got an amazing Patronus," Tonks put in, "that changed recently."

"Changed?" Minerva said sharply. "Into what?"

"A phoenix," Lupin answered. "We think it was triggered by the shock of Dumbledore's death."

There were many looks of awe. "It's like Dumbledore gave Harry his Patronus," Sturgis said quietly.

"Whatever triggered the change, it seems to be for the better," Lupin said, sighing. "It's the most powerful Patronus I've seen him produce yet, and he did it effortlessly. He's also mastered the Protean Charm, Altering Spell, Backfiring Jinx, Blasting Curse, and Destructor Jinx, all of them by himself."

Bill snorted. "Good thing he's on our side."

"Impressive," Kingsley heard Mad-Eye murmur. "Very impressive."

Kingsley was beyond impressed; he'd never even heard of the Destructor Jinx before. And a phoenix Patronus? Harry was definitely going to go far. No wonder Dumbledore had held such high hopes when the rest of them had been on the brink of giving up.

"Well, as we all know, he's not a boy anymore," Arthur said. "He's seventeen and far more experienced in these matters than most of us." He slid his arm around his wife's shoulder.

"So are Ron and Hermione," Charlie added, "and even Ginny. They're all a lot more capable and mature than I was at their age."

"Have you noticed," Bill said musingly, "that all of them seem to fit in multiple Houses? Like Hermione – if I were the Sorting Hat I would've put her in Ravenclaw, no question."

Kingsley was of the same mind; if anyone could outwit You-Know-Who, it would be Hermione. Old Flitwick must have been incensed that she wasn't placed in his House.

"If Ron couldn't go to Gryffindor, I'd put him in Hufflepuff," Tonks said. "I haven't even seen a crup that's half as loyal as he is."

"And I suppose Ginny could be a Slytherin," Charlie said slowly. He ignored his parents' consternated looks. "She takes after Fred and George – cunning and sneaky, haven't you noticed? That's really a mark of Slytherin."

"We shouldn't even start on Harry," Sturgis said dryly. "He could be in any of them."

Kingsley, who had been a Gryffindor, could see how that would work; Harry was brave, determined, intelligent, and Machiavellian when he wanted to be. He shook his head; the Sorting Hat would probaby curse Gryffindor in his grave if it could.

"We _are _getting slightly off-topic," Minerva said, sounding amused. "Shall we return to our previous discussion?"

"Right, you've only mentioned two possibilities for the remaining three," Mad-Eye said impatiently to Bill. "What's the third?"

Bill suddenly looked apprehensive. "The last one we're not sure about," he said, looking down at his hands. "We've thought of two prospects. The first is You-Know-Who's snake, Nagini. It seems that living things _can _be used to make Horcruxes."

"Is it like possession?" Molly asked, looking pale. _Of course she'd be worried,_ Kingsley thought, _what with Ginny and all._

Bill looked at his mother. "Almost, but not quite. Unlike in the case of possession, a living thing that's been made into a Horcrux still has control over its own body, because its soul is dominant over the invader. In this situation the invading soul would be even weaker than usual, since it's one-seventh of the original thing."

Mad-Eye folded his arms across his chest. "And the second?"

"The second…"

"Remus?" Kingsley heard Tonks whisper. "Remus, what's wrong?"

Kingsley turned to see Lupin staring at Bill. His face was white and his hands were clenched in his lap.

Bill took a deep breath. "Our second guess…is Harry."

There was silence as everyone stared at Bill in disbelief.

_That's impossible,_ Kingsley thought, frowning. _Harry – a Horcrux. Impossible. _And yet, in a sick way, it all made sense – You-Know-Who putting a piece of himself into his nemesis. It would be just how he'd want it. Whether the Dark won or the Light won, Harry would die. Either he would be killed by You-Know-Who…or he would have to kill himself. Kingsley felt sick.

"Bill…William, this is no time to joke around," Molly scolded, her hands trembling as she gripped her husband's shoulders.

"I wish I was, Mum," Bill said grimly. "Whether it was intentional or not, there is a strong likelihood that Harry was made into a Horcrux when You-Know-Who tried to kill him seventeen years ago. His scar might be evidence of that, as well as his ability to speak Parseltongue. We all thought it was only his powers that You-Know-Who transferred to Harry, but it might have actually been part of his soul."

"And that would explain why he can destroy the other Horcruxes," Mad-Eye muttered. "A Horcrux wouldn't affect its creator."

Molly gave a small sob. "No," she moaned as Arthur held her tightly. "No, Merlin, please…"

"And if he – "

"No!"

All eyes swiveled to Lupin, who had shot to his feet. His face had been drained of color and his fists shook by his sides. He was staring off into a place only he could see. "No," he repeated, anguish laden in his voice. "It's impossible."

He turned on his heel and stormed out through the back door.

–––––

Tonks cautiously pushed the door open and slipped outside. She spotted Remus sitting against the wall, his face buried in his hands.

She could hardly believe it herself – _Harry a Horcrux? _She could scarcely register the fact – no, the _possibility _– let alone its implications. But Remus…

He looked up as he heard her approach. His face was streaked with tears, his tired eyes red and puffy. Her own eyes stung as she looked at him. "Remus," she murmured, hurrying to his side.

"It can't be," he said in a muffled voice, covering his face with his hands again. "He can't be – Harry can't – "

"Remus, it's – "

"There must be a spell," he whispered, looking up and wiping his cheeks. "Something to reverse it – take it out – "

Tonks slid down to sit beside him and laid a hand on his arm. "Remus, it's still just a possibility," she said softly. "Nothing's certain. Bill said – "

"No," Remus said roughly. "He is. I know he is. But he can't be…" His shabby robes were stained with tears; Tonks felt her own slip down her cheeks. "I can't lose him, too. Not now. I promised Sirius I'd take care of him. I promised Lily and James I'd protect their son."

"There's a greater chance that he isn't," she said, trying to console him. "You-Know-Who had gone to kill Harry that night, not make him into a Horcrux."

"It was unintentional," Remus said harshly, staring at a broken cauldron sitting in front of him. "He hadn't been planning on it. But killing Lily and James had split his soul, and when his curse backfired and gave Harry the scar, one piece of his soul was transferred to Harry."

"But how do you know?" Tonks asked quietly. "How do you know that?"

Remus looked at her, his eyes burning with grief. "I know," he said. "The possibility came to me the night Minerva first told us about the Horcruxes. Up until now I believed that it couldn't be true, especially because I seemed to be the only one who had considered the chances. But now that I've heard Bill talk, I know. It's the only thing that makes sense. Harry being able to speak Parseltongue, the Sorting Hat offering to put him in Slytherin, the connection he and Voldemort have, the fact that he's getting stronger all of a sudden. It's the piece of Voldemort's soul in him. It used to be dormant, but now that he's of age and in such close contact with the Dark Arts, it's triggering changes in him. And he can't live like that."

"Then we've got to tell him," Tonks said simply. "He's got to get ready – everyone has to – "

Remus suddenly stood up, shaking his head adamantly. "We can't tell him."

Tonks got to her feet. "But Remus – "

"No," he said sharply, ignoring Tonks' bewildered look. "No. We are _not _going to tell Harry that he's a Horcrux."

* * *

"So," Hermione said, sitting down at the table with Ernie and two other Hufflepuff students. "What have we got so far?" 

Wayne Hopkins shook his head. "We're pretty sure Hufflepuff's Cup is one of them," he said. Justin Finch-Fletchley nodded in agreement. "Everything we found corroborates with what Harry told us, and it seems to be the most valuable Hufflepuff artifact. And since we know that the Dark Dork actually got his hands on it, we can assume that it was most likely made into a Horcrux."

"But the problem is, we have no idea what happened to it afterwards," Justin said, frowning. "That's what James and Veronica are having trouble with concerning Ravenclaw's artifacts. There's no trace of them."

Wayne pulled out a piece of parchment. "The only things we do know is that the old lady the Dark Dork took the Cup from was named Hepzibah Smith – "

"Wayne!" Justin cried suddenly, jumping up from his seat. Several younger students sitting nearby stared at him and Justin lowered his voice. "I knew that name sounded familiar – Hepzibah Smith! Smith, Wayne! Zacharias Smith!"

Wayne looked unconvinced. "Justin, Smith is one of the most common names in Great Britain. You're saying the one Smith descended from Hepzibah is _in _Hogwarts? In our House and in our year?"

"Well," Hermione said slowly, "it's a really small chance…but a small chance is better than no chance at all, isn't it? It can't hurt to ask."

"He's in Harry's group," Justin said excitedly. "Come on!"

Hermione followed Justin and Wayne to where Harry was lecturing his group on counterjinxes, feeling giddy despite herself. Zacharias couldn't _really _be descended from Hepzibah Smith, could he? And even if he was, would he know the whereabouts of Hufflepuff's Cup? It was nigh impossible that Voldemort would have just returned the Cup to the Smith family after putting a piece of his soul into it. What was Justin expecting?

She watched as Justin quietly filled Harry in on his theory. Harry listened in silence, his eyes narrowing as Justin jerked his head in Zacharias' direction. As Harry glanced from Justin to Zacharias and back to Justin, he twirled his wand between his fingers; it was something Hermione had recently noted to be a sign that he was in deep thought – and, she realized in sudden shock, something Tom Riddle had done. Was it coincidence?

Harry glanced in her direction, his skepticism evident in his expression. Hermione shrugged. She wasn't going to say the idea wasn't viable. Harry ran a hand through his hair and muttered something to Justin. He then turned to his group and told them to pick partners to practice Backfiring Jinxes, pairing himself up with Zacharias Smith. The boy looked as sour as ever as he sullenly regarded Harry, Justin, and Wayne; Hermione wondered why he even bothered to come.

"Zacharias, do you any relatives named Hepzibah?" she heard Harry ask him.

Zacharias scowled at them. "What's it matter to you?"

"Listen, you – " Justin began heatedly.

Harry held up a hand and Justin immediately fell silent. Hermione furrowed her brows. When had Harry become so…commanding? He seemed to slip easily into his role as a leader, despite his protests and complaints about everyone depending on him.

"It matters," he said coolly, "because you're here. Because you care enough, or you're curious enough, to show up at every meeting. You're one of the most skilled people here because you _try._ If you can spend that much time and focus and energy on this, why can't you answer one question?"

Zacharias glowered at him. Harry stared right back, his eyes fiery and unyielding. In the end, it was Zacharias who looked away. "No," he mumbled. "There's no one in my family named Hepzibah."

Harry turned to Justin, shrugging. "Sorry, mate. Nice try, though."

Justin's shoulders slumped. Wayne and Hermione joined him as he trudged back to the research table.

"C'mon, you knew it was one in a million," Wayne said, trying to cheer Justin up.

Justin sat down and slouched in his chair. "But I thought we _had _something this time," he mumbled.

Wayne sighed. "Yeah, well…we knew it wasn't going to be easy."

"As long as we have something to work with, we can't give up," Hermione said firmly. "The trail hasn't gone cold yet, and there's – "

"Hermione!"

She, Justin, and Wayne looked up to see Veronica Blair urgently beckoning them to her table. James Tory was hunched over a book beside her, and the area around them was littered with books, scraps of parchment, quills, and an empty bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

Justin leapt up from his seat and the three of them rushed over to Veronica.

"Did you find something?" Justin asked excitedly.

"We _might _have found what the Ravenclaw Horcrux is," Veronica said cautiously. She tapped James' shoulder. "James has the details."

The short, bespectacled boy scribbled one last note on a piece of parchment and brushed his hair out of his eyes. Hermione, Justin, and Wayne crowded around him. The parchment had three timelines sketched out on it, as well as a copious amount of notes jotted down at the bottom.

"Okay, so Ravenclaw was born around the year 1000 and was one of the Founders of Hogwarts," James began. "Her house is associated with the element of air and her students were known for their intelligence and scholarly inclinations. Her colors were blue and bronze, and her emblem is a bronze eagle on a blue background. She was good friends with Helga Hufflepuff and came up with the ever-changing floor plan in the school. She died somewhere around the year 1100."

Hermione, Justin, and Wayne nodded impatiently; they knew all of that.

"Now," James said, pointing to the first timeline, which was marked _"Golden Flute," "_this is one of Ravenclaw's artifacts. It's a golden flute, about half a meter long, with her name inscribed on the underside. Hufflepuff gave it to her as a gift somewhere around the time Hogwarts was established, which is at about 1034. Ravenclaw then bequeathed it to her daughter before her death, and after that it was handed down through following generations. Her last known scion died in 1937 in Holland, and he left no record of what he did with the flute – if he even had it."

Hermione racked her brains. She hadn't ever heard of a golden flute, never mind one that had belonged to Ravenclaw. Tom Riddle would have been eleven in 1937, a first-year at Hogwarts. There was no way he could have been hoarding precious artifacts at that age, so the flute's disappearance probably wasn't connected with him…

"Next," James said, moving his finger to the second timeline, this one labeled _"Shield," _"is a shield, modeled after the _Aegis,_ which was the mythological protective shield of the Greek god Zeus. The Aegis bears Medusa's head in the central boss, and was supposed to have turned to stone anyone who beheld it. I don't know if Ravenclaw's shield had the same properties, but it was goblin-made and obviously held some sort of powerful magic. Ravenclaw's bronze eagle replaced Medusa's head on the shield. This also seems to have been passed down to her heirs until 1937, where it seems to disappear."

James let out a long sigh and sat back in his chair, apparently winded by all the recitations. He indicated the last timeline, which was titled _"Wand." _"Then there's Ravenclaw's wand. It was rowan and unicorn tail hair, ten inches, from Ollivander's. Although wands are traditionally snapped in half upon the owner's death, it seems that Ravenclaw requested for hers not to be. Instead, I think she sent it _back _to Ollivander's shop, and the shop's had it ever since then."

"But Ollivander's _gone,_" Justin groaned. "Who knows – what if he really _was _kidnapped?" he exclaimed, eyes widening in fear. "What if the Dark Dork had him kidnapped because he _knew _Ollivander had – "

"Interesting theory, but you're missing something," Veronica interjected. "If Ravenclaw really did give the Ollivanders her wand for whatever reason, and Ollivander's has had it until now, then how did the Dark Dork steal it and make it into a Horcrux? And how did Ollivander's get it back after that?"

"Well, maybe he got it _before _Ollivander – "

"Stop rambling and just listen to James, will you?" Wayne said, raising an eyebrow. "Which one do you think it is?" he asked James.

James and Veronica glanced at each other.

"The flute and shield are both valuable possessions," James said slowly, "but compared to Ravenclaw's wand, they wouldn't be nearly as significant. If the Dark Dork was really searching for prominent artifacts of the Founders' – and if he had a choice – I think he'd go for the wand."

"And Ravenclaw was known for wisdom and intelligence," Hermione added. "If you think about it, your wand is one of the basic tools you use to _gain _intelligence."

Veronica nodded. "Right. But back to the problem. If Ravenclaw gave her wand to Ollivander, and Ollivander received it, the Dark Dork couldn't have made it into a Horcrux…"

"…Unless Ollivander _didn't _get it," James finished gravely. "It could've been stolen, waylaid, undelivered, or a number of other things, all of which could potentially lead to the wand falling into the hands of the Dark Dork."

"Then why are you telling us this?" Wayne asked irritably. "You don't know what happened, either."

Veronica cocked her head at him. "We never said we didn't know."

"In fact, we think we have a very good idea what happened," James said dryly. "We found a letter addressed to Rowena Ravenclaw from Ollivander's three days before her death, informing her that her wand had been delivered safely to his shop."

"And then he put it on display, which is where it stayed for…oh, nine centuries or so," Veronica said. "And then the Dark Dork showed up, in 1936, for his new wand. Maybe Ravenclaw's wand caught his eye, maybe it didn't."

"In any case, we found another letter written by one of Ollivander's friends," James went on. "In it the man recounts a story Ollivander told him one day in 1964. Apparently the Dark Dork revisited Ollivander's shop and asked if he could have the wand in the display case. Ollivander declined, telling him that the wand 'wasn't suitable for his needs.'"

Wayne snorted. Hermione frowned. Had Ollivander known what Voldemort had had in mind? If the wand maker really had been kidnapped, was it because he knew what and where the Horcrux was?

"The Dark Dork, of course, left in a nasty mood," Veronica said. "About two weeks later, according to the Daily Prophet, six men in black cloaks killed seven people in Diagon Alley, in front of Ollivander's shop. By the time Hit Wizards arrived and sorted everything out, they noticed that the wand in Ollivander's display case had vanished."

James ran a hand through his hair. "Ollivander didn't say anything about its disappearance, and also refused to comment when the wand reappeared in the display case three months later."

"He got it _back?_" Justin asked incredulously. "From the Dark Dork?"

"So it seems," James sighed.

Hermione put her hand up. "Wait a minute. You're saying that the Dark Dork stole the wand, made it into a Horcrux, and Ollivander stole it back?"

James nodded. "That seems about right. But then the question becomes: _Where is it now?"_

"You don't know?" Justin asked, looking dismayed.

"We know where it's _not,"_ Veronica said matter-of-factly. "It disappeared again along with Ollivander."

Wayne blew his cheeks out. "Then it could be _anywhere,"_ he moaned.

"Not really," James said thoughtfully. "If it's in the hands of the Dark Dork again, he'd want to put his Horcruxes in the most appropriate place. Slytherin is connected to the element water, and from what Harry told us of how he and Professor Dumbledore went to find Slytherin's locket, there was plenty of water involved."

"Ravenclaw is associated with air, but she's also linked to wands and spiritual strength," Veronica explained. "Therefore Ravenclaw's wand would most likely reside in a place related to air, wands, or spirits. Ollivander's is the obvious choice for a wand-related location, but we know it's not there anymore. Unless the Dark Dork gave the wand to a dragon or hung it on a cloud, we know it's not in the air either. This leaves spirits."

"Where can you find spirits?" Justin asked, knitting his brows.

James leaned forward, his eyes bright. "Good question. Where _can _you find spirits?"

"Spirits are like souls," Hermione murmured. "Souls are released from people when they die…"

"He didn't give it to a dementor, did he?" Wayne asked suddenly, aghast.

James shook his head quickly. "Think about it. Giving a piece of soul to a dementor? Even if it _is _as a Horcrux, the dementor would probably find a way to take the soul out and devour it."

"Right," Wayne said faintly.

"A cemetery," Hermione announced. "You would find the most spirits in a cemetery."

James and Veronica nodded. "That's exactly what we thought," Veronica said.

"And added to the fact that the Dark Dork wouldn't keep his Horcrux in _any _old graveyard has led us to the conclusion…"

"…That Ravenclaw's wand is at Little Hangleton."

* * *

Harry was sitting in the common room with Ron and Hermione when a large silver cat materialized beside him. 

"Bloody Merlin!" Ron exclaimed, nearly falling out of his chair in shock. "Whose is that?"

"Cat Patronus," Hermione mused. "Must be Professor McGonagall."

Harry pulled out his wand and tapped the cat. Professor McGonagall's voice filled his head.

_::Mr. Potter, please meet me in my office at seven this evening for Occlumency lessons, as Professor Blackthorn is unavailable. Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger are to see Lupin and Mad-Eye in the Room of Requirement at seven-thirty.::_

"Is it her?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded as the cat dissipated. "I've got an Occlumency lesson with her at seven, and you two have to be the Room of Requirement by seven-thirty. What time is it?"

Hermione checked her watch. "You've got about ten minutes. Why aren't you with Professor Blackthorn?"

"He's not available," Harry said, shrugging.

Hermione frowned. "I didn't know she was a Legilimens."

"Are you going to tell her about Ravenclaw's wand?" Ron asked. "Or Lupin?"

"No, and you two better not tell anyone, either," Harry warned.

Hermione gave him a look. "Harry, everyone in the PA already knows we're going to go find it, and the Order knows you're the only one who can destroy it. Why would they try to stop you?"

"Just don't tell anyone," Harry repeated adamantly as he stood up. "I've got to get going."

He headed toward the portrait hole without another word. As he climbed out, he heard Hermione whispering to Ron and vowed that he'd stuff her in a closet if she said anything to anyone.

He ran a hand through his hair as he strode down the deserted corridors. If anyone asked, he couldn't honestly give them a reason as to why he was holding so much back from the Order. It didn't make sense to spill all his secrets to a bunch of students but withhold them from adults who had far more experience and cared much more for his well-being. But then again, maybe that was it – the Order cared too much, especially Remus and Mrs. Weasley. He knew that they would put his safety before everything else; if killing Voldemort meant his death, they would rather choose to live under Voldemort's regime than let him die.

The PA, however, was different. As students – and as kids – they knew what was more important. And even if some of them _did _believe that he might die in the process of defeating Voldemort, they weren't going to try to stop him. They knew – because he'd taught them – that getting rid of Voldemort came first. Besides, if that wasn't enough motivation, the snitch jinx Hermione had placed on them would deter any tattletales.

He twirled his wand in his fingers as he approached the stone gargoyle, which jumped aside when he told it the password. He took the steps of the spiral staircase two at a time and knocked on the door.

There was some shuffling before he heard Professor McGonagall's voice say, "Come in."

He pushed the door open and stepped inside the circular office.

The Headmistress was sitting at her desk. "Good evening, Mr. Potter," she said. "Have a seat."

He obliged, and accepted her offer of a ginger newt.

"We had an Order meeting yesterday," she said, taking a scroll of parchment off a nearby shelf and handing it to him. "This is a copy of notes on Horcruxes from Bill, Charlie, Hestia, and Strugis. They have the original, and whatever they add to it will be updated on this."

Harry nodded in thanks and tapped the scroll with his wand. It promptly vanished. Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows.

"It's in my trunk," Harry explained, shrugging. "I didn't want to lose it."

A strange look flitted across the Headmistress' face, but it soon reacquired its usual stoicism. "I see. Then shall we begin?"

She and Harry stood up and moved to a less-cluttered area, their wands in hand.

"I'm not much of a Legilimens myself," she said as they faced each other, "but my skills should be sufficient to test you."

Harry grinned, brushing his hair out of his eyes. He had been practicing much more rigorously for the past several weeks, and while he was still no match for Professor Blackthorn, he thought he might have a chance against Professor McGonagall.

"Ready?"

Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes, wiping his mind blank. His wand was smooth and reassuring in his hand.

"_Legilimens!"_

He felt a tentative push at the wall he had built up around his mind. The push became more aggressive as he bolstered his defenses. The push eventually went away, and he opened his eyes.

Professor McGonagall was eyeing him thoughtfully. "Very impressive, Harry," she said. "We'll try again, shall we?"

Harry nodded and closed his eyes again.

"_Legilimens!"_

Harry had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from gasping; it felt like an anvil had been rammed against his mental barricade. He gritted his teeth and fought back, but the pressure kept building, straining and forcing its way through until...

_Dumbledore lay writhing on the ground of the cave, screaming and pleading as Harry forced a goblet of green liquid down his throat… Sirius's body arched back gracefully, a look of shock etched into his gaunt features as he passed through the fluttering black veil… Cedric lay spread-eagled on the ground, his gray eyes blank and sightless…_

_A hundred dementors closed in around him along the lake, their breaths rattling beneath their hoods, their putrid, rotting hands reaching for Sirius... Ginny lay motionless on the floor, a giant basilisk rearing up behind her, fangs glistening with venom… The queen struck Ron's horse, and he tumbled from the giant chess piece as Hermione screamed…_

_Uncle Vernon was hammering the letter box shut, boarding up the door and the windows and the fireplace… He was sitting alone in the dark cupboard under the stairs, wearing a thin, baggy sweatshirt and shivering… He was forced to sweep the floors and clean the kitchen after Dudley had thrown his spaghetti at the wall… He was sent to bed without supper three nights in a row for breaking several costly china plates…_

_Dudley jabbed him in the side with a stick, and he dropped the toaster he'd been cleaning onto his foot, breaking several toes_..._he was again sent to bed without supper for breaking the toaster… Ripper chased him up a tree as the Dursleys stood laughing at him below on the lawn… Dudley punched him in the face for touching his new Playstation… Aunt Petunia was banging on his cupboard, demanding that he get up and make breakfast for Dudley's birthday…_

He felt a sharp pain in his knee; someone was yelling his name but his head collided with something hard and everything went black.

–––––

"Harry!"

Harry's eyes jerked open, as if they had just been waiting for the call. He squinted up at the anxious faces of Ron and Hermione.

"Oh my God, you're all right," Hermione said, letting out a sigh and dropping into a chair behind her. Harry was lying on a couch beside the lit fireplace in Professor McGonagall's office. "How do you feel?"

"Like someone stuck my head down a toilet," Harry replied, putting a hand to the side of his head. There were bandages wrapped around it. "Fred and George didn't come by, did they?"

Ron grinned and Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Harry. Don't you know what happened?"

"I never know what happens to me," Harry grumbled, wincing as his head began throbbing.

"You fell and slammed your head into the corner of the desk," Ron said with a grimace.

"Professor McGonagall told us," Hermione said softly.

Harry sat up, instantly alert. He remembered now – his attempt at Occlumency had failed and Professor McGonagall had gotten a glimpse of his memories. The Dursleys…

"Where is she?" Harry asked curtly, ignoring the pain in his head that was making his eyes water.

"I dunno, she called us here and just left with Lupin and Mad-Eye," Ron said uneasily. "They all looked popping mad. Lupin seemed homicidal."

Harry groaned inwardly. "You know?"

Ron glanced at Hermione, who swallowed hard. "Um…yeah," she said in trepidation. "Professor McGonagall – she showed us."

"Bloody Muggles," Ron said, scowling. "Right nutters they are, all of them."

"Not all of them," Harry said, looking pointedly at Hermione.

"But look at what they did to you, mate!" Ron protested. "They didn't even – "

"Harry!"

The door burst open and Ginny charged in, her eyes alight with fury. She flung her bag on the ground and stomped over to Harry. Ron gulped audibly and took a step back.

"Um," Harry said as she stood in front of him, her hands on her hips. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

"You bloody shut up about class, Harry James Potter," she snapped. "That should be the least of your worries. Hurry up and give me one good reason why I shouldn't Apparate to Little Whinging and turn your damn relatives into toads."

"Er…you can't Apparate?"

"And by the time you get there Lupin and Mad-Eye would have already turned them into mushrooms," Ron said dryly.

Ginny glared at both of them. Harry felt thoroughly cowed. Her clothes seemed to be smoldering from the wrath she was emanating. "Ginny – "

"Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded, cutting him off. "Why didn't you tell any of us? Why do you have to keep suffering by yourself?"

"Because it's not relevant," Harry said defensively. "That – "

"Not _relevant?_" Ginny snarled. "Those stupid fat Muggles destroyed your childhood and that's not _relevant?_"

"They didn't _destroy _it," Harry remonstrated. "I was fine."

"Oh yeah, because _all _of us have been locked up in cupboards and starved," Ginny said sarcastically.

Harry grabbed her hand. "Ginny, listen to me. That was all in the past. I can't change it, and neither can you or anyone else. What's done is done."

Ginny glared daggers at him for another minute; then, suddenly, her hand went limp. The rage seemed to drain from her face until all that was left was grief and worry. Harry frowned to see tears in her eyes as she sat down beside him.

"You're such a prat," she whispered, shaking her head. "How could you endure all that without complaint and not tell anyone?"

"I had my revenge," Harry said flippantly, trying to cheer her up. "I sicced a snake on Dudley and blew up my aunt."

Ron grinned. "I remember that."

Ginny glowered at them. "This isn't something to _joke _about," she growled.

"Ginny's right, Harry," Hermione said seriously. "That was physical abuse. Are you really going to let them go after they starved you and beat you up?"

"Don't fall for it, mate," Ron cautioned. "They're going into the whole 'let's talk about your feelings' thing."

"I think it's time we left, Ron," Hermione sighed. "Harry seems fine. Ginny can take care of him. Let's go."

"But I – "

"_Now,"_ Hermione said firmly, grabbing his shoulders and steering him out of the office.

"It's a trap!" Ron managed to shout before Hermione shut the door behind her.

Harry attempted a smile in Ginny's direction.

She shook her head. "Look, we won't talk about it if you don't want to," she said quietly. "You're right; it's over. There's nothing we can do about it, because I'll get sent to Azkaban if I try to hex them."

Harry grinned. "They're not all that bad. Well, maybe Dudley and Uncle Vernon are. But Aunt Petunia's a little different. She's my mum's sister, after all."

Ginny leaned in and kissed him. "You're amazing," she whispered. "This is what Dumbledore meant. You're _nothing _like the Dark Dork. You both grew up as orphans and had terrible childhoods, but while he succumbed to pain and vengeance, you held on to the brighter side. You didn't let anger and hate cloud your mind."

"One of my better traits," Harry put in. "It's often commented upon."

She smiled against his lips. "I love you in a way they could never understand," she murmured. "I promise you'll never have to face anything like that alone ever again. I'll be with you."

* * *

Up Next: Does Remus really know what he's talking about? How does he know all that anyway? Horcrux number two beckons, and Harry isn't about to let the call go unheeded. 

Well, we think all the dates are rather credible, as well as most of Harry's early memories. Hopefully nothing went amiss.

Drop off a word or two and we'll eternally thank you!


	14. Into Thin Air

Apologies, apologies... Hopefully we didn't bore any of you away with the long wait. Here's unlucky chapter thirteen; it hasn't been betaed so feel free if you'd like to point out all the inconsistencies. :)

* * *

**Into Thin Air – **_"Invisible shackles, strong as the heaviest of iron chains." – Mimus, Mimus, Lilli Thal_

"Harry, are you coming?"

Harry jerked awake at the sound of Ron's voice. He had been sitting in an armchair in the common room, reading over his Transfiguration notes, and had apparently dozed off. Ron had already packed up his things and was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs.

"Er, I think I'll stay down here a bit longer," Harry said, indicating his books.

Ron shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Harry made a show of scanning the sheets of parchment on his lap until Ron's footsteps fade away. He wasn't _really _staying up to study, of course. Remus had told him to meet him in the common room at eleven o'clock, which was in five minutes.

He stared into the blazing fire before him, wondering if Remus was going to physically appear in the common room. Harry felt that he would prefer not talking to him face-to-face, especially if what Remus wanted to discuss was the Dursleys.

He hadn't seen Remus, Mad-Eye, or Professor McGonagall since the Occlumency lesson nearly a week ago, and hadn't decided whether to consider this a good thing or not. He was sure he would've heard if anything had happened to the Dursleys, and he was certain that no one in the Order would be senseless enough to actually do anything to them. If Ginny could accept it, then why couldn't everyone else?

And it would be better not to face Remus now, right before he went to find Ravenclaw's wand. Remus wasn't a Legilimens as far as Harry knew, but he didn't want to risk Remus finding out about the Horcrux. There hadn't been any updates to the Horcrux notes Professor McGonagall had given him, so he supposed it was safe to assume that the Order didn't know where Ravenclaw's wand was.

Harry glanced at his wrist before remembering that he had gotten rid of his broken watch long ago; when he looked back up at the fire, he was startled to see Remus' face outlined amidst the embers.

"Glad you could make it," he said with a smile.

"Hey," Harry said, shifting his notes onto the table and moving to a chair that was closer to the fireplace. "Er, are you sure this is safe?"

"Kingsley and Tonks assured me that it was," Remus said, nodding. "How are you? I hope this isn't too late."

"It's fine," Harry shrugged. "I'm good. How are you?"

Remus smiled. "Better, now that I've finally seen you. I'm sorry for leaving that day without any word; Mad-Eye and Professor McGonagall say the same."

"That's all right," Harry said. "Where did you go?"

"Impromptu Order meeting," Remus said. "How's your head? Madam Pomfrey told me you had bandages?"

"I got them off two days ago," Harry said, trying not to sound impatient. It sounded to him as if Remus was hiding something. "I feel fine. What was the meeting about?"

Remus hesitated for a moment before sighing, "You. Your relatives."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Why?" he asked irritably. "Why does everyone have to go discuss it? It's not that big of a deal. I'm here, I'm perfectly fine, and I have no thoughts of turning them into pigs even though I hate them and they deserve it."

Remus smiled faintly. "Glad to hear that," he said, shaking his head. "But I have to disagree with you, as will the rest of the Order. What you suffered is actually of great consequence. Have you talked about it with anyone?"

"Ginny, I guess," Harry mumbled. He didn't like the way the conversation was going; why couldn't everyone just admit that the past was the past and realize that he wasn't having psychological repercussions? "Well, we didn't really talk _about _it. She just said that Dumbledore had been right, and that I wasn't like Voldemort at all. Even though we both grew up as orphans and were abused, Voldemort chose to embrace the darker side of things."

"Yes, but see, Ginny was wrong," Remus said matter-of-factly. "Although there _are _paramount differences between you and Voldemort, there are also similarities that you cannot afford to dismiss out of hand."

"But I thought this whole thing was about me _not _being like him," Harry said crossly.

Remus sighed. "Harry, this isn't a one-sided ordeal. To defeat Voldemort you need to understand him and the causes of his actions, as well as the similarities between the two of you. You know what the prophecy says. '…_and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal._' Even Voldemort thought that you were so like him that you might find a way to vanquish him."

"But I don't _want _to be like him," Harry growled. "I'm _not."_

"It's not your choice," Remus said quietly. "No one chooses their character or their personality. What happens happens and everyone inherently reacts to it in a specific way. You can't change that."

"But I _did _choose not to be like him," Harry said stubbornly. "I _chose _to be in Gryffindor. I _chose _not to go on a killing spree and hate Muggles because of what they did to me."

"That's true," Remus agreed. "It's your choices that distinguish you from him. But both of you have instinctive reactions to certain things that are more than mere coincidences."

"No, I – "

"Think about it, Harry," Remus said firmly. "Pretend this is Occlumency. Clear your mind. Start from the beginning. There's just you and a man named Tom Riddle. What do you have in common?"

Harry clamped his mouth shut, glaring defiantly at Remus. Remus looked back at him, his gaze open and honest. Harry blew out his cheeks.

"We're both orphans," he began grudgingly. "We're half-bloods and we both had less than enjoyable childhoods."

Remus nodded. "Good. And?"

"We're both fighting for what we believe in. No matter how damned stupid those beliefs are. We'll do anything to get what we want."

"And what are those things that you're doing?"

Harry frowned. "We…well, Tom has his Death Eaters fighting for him, but he doesn't trust them. Ultimately, he's working by himself."

"And you?" Remus prompted.

"Well, there's the Order," Harry said. "I've got Ginny, Ron, and Hermione…"

"But you still hold back," Remus said quietly. "You don't want help. You think you don't _need _help. Like Tom."

"I told you about the Horcruxes!" Harry said heatedly. "I told you everything – "

"Have you?" Remus asked, raising an eyebrow. "Have you really told us everything, so that we can help you as much as we can? We know you don't trust us – at least, not as much as you should. Your reluctance to let others in on your plans is quite like Tom. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione are to you as Tom's closest followers are to him. People you can tell things to, but only certain things. You might be holding back for different reasons, but you're still doing it."

Harry folded his arms across his chest.

"I'm not saying you have to tell us all your secrets," Remus said gently. "I won't lie; we keep secrets from you, too. We don't expect you to spill your deepest, darkest fears to us. But we need to understand what you're planning to do, so that we can act accordingly."

Harry averted his gaze and stared down at the ground. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't be. You're doing what you think is best," Remus said simply. "Now, you said that both of you are fighting for what you believe in, and that you'd do anything to win. Why?"

Harry snorted. "Because Voldemort's a bloody murdering bastard?"

Remus gave him a look. "Is he?"

"Of course he is!" Harry said incredulously, wondering how Remus – or anyone else – could think otherwise. "He murdered my mum and dad, not to mention loads of other people! Even if he didn't directly kill all of them, he ordered his Death Eaters to kill them, like Sirius and Cedric and Dumbledore – "

"So," Remus interrupted, "what does that boil down to? Why are you fighting Voldemort?"

"So he doesn't kill me," Harry said, starting to get annoyed. Wasn't that obvious?

Remus raised an eyebrow. "So it's for revenge. You fight to avenge the deaths of the people that came before you."

"Well, yeah!"

Remus sighed. "Okay. Then why is Voldemort fighting?"

"So he can get rid of Muggles and half-bloods and rule the world for eternity," Harry scowled. "He thinks half-bloods are impure, even though he's one himself, because they're part Muggle and Muggles are abhorrent for what they did to him."

Remus nodded somberly. "And what's your greatest desire?"

Harry opened his mouth, and then closed it again. What _was _his greatest desire? To get rid of Voldemort? Would that truly make him happy? "I want…Voldemort to be gone."

"Why?" Remus asked.

"Why?" Harry repeated. "Because I don't want him to kill any more people, that's why!"

"Exactly," Remus said approvingly. "That's it. _That's _why you should be fighting. Not because you want revenge, but because you want to protect the people you love. Didn't Dumbledore always say that? Love is the most powerful magic. Fighting because you love your friends and you want to protect them will give you more strength and motivation than fighting because you want revenge. Revenge can be part of it, but it can't be the main reason. Then you'd be no better than Voldemort."

Harry hugged his knees to his chest, mulling this over. Love. Revenge. He wanted revenge, that was for sure. He wanted Voldemort to pay for taking away his family, for getting him stuck with the Dursleys, for killing Dumbledore and Sirius and Cedric… But making him pay wouldn't be enough. He had to be dead and gone forever so that he couldn't do more damage. So that he couldn't kill _more _people, like Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Remus. So that, basically, Harry could protect everyone that he loved…

Harry looked up and suddenly wished that Remus could step out of the fire and into the common room. It would have felt good to have Remus' reassuring presence beside him.

"Remus?"

"Hmm?"

"You know how you said Voldemort doesn't trust anyone?"

Remus nodded slowly. "Yes."

Harry took a deep breath. "Not even Snape?"

Remus was silent for a moment. Then, he said, "Not even Snape."

"But why not? He killed Dumbledore for him," Harry said roughly.

"That may be so," Remus sighed, "but the only thing that proves is that Snape was strong enough to take Dumbledore."

"He was not!" Harry said, struggling to keep his voice down. "Dumbledore was sick, he was – "

"I'm not saying it's true," Remus said in a placating tone. "It proves to _Voldemort _that Snape was strong enough to kill him. And remember, a tyrant's worst enemies are his followers. Knowing that Snape was able to do something he himself has been trying to do for years isn't going to make him happy."

Harry set his chin on his knees. "How could Dumbledore have been so stupid?" he whispered. "No one else even entertained the notion that Snape could be trustworthy. But he did."

Remus sighed; it was clear that he didn't know what to say, and although Harry desperately wanted answers, he wasn't going to lash out at Remus. The only person that could have explained this was Dumbledore, or maybe Snape…and Harry was definitely going to make him reveal _everything _when Harry was through with him.

"I tried the mirror," he said suddenly, remembering.

A momentary look of confusion passed over Remus' face; then, recognition seemed to dawn because he said, "The mirror? James' mirror?"

Harry nodded into his knees. "Sirius gave it to me two years ago. He said I could call him if I needed to talk to him, and he'd appear in the mirror." He closed his eyes. "So I tried calling his name like he told me to, and he didn't answer. And then I thought that maybe – since he used it with my dad – they wouldn't have called each other Sirius and James. It would have been Padfoot and Prongs, right?"

He opened his eyes to see Remus nodding sadly.

"So I called Padfoot," he whispered.

Remus didn't say anything.

"But I don't want him to be gone," Harry said fiercely, releasing his knees. He glared down at his shoes. "It's not bloody _fair._ I only had – it wasn't even two years. He told me – he told me I could come live with him," he choked out.

He turned away, not wanting Remus to see his blurry eyes.

"Harry," Remus said gently. "It's okay to grieve."

"No, it's not," Harry muttered, angrily wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "It's not okay. I can't. People look to me for support, and if I fall they have no one to lean on."

"And who do _you_ lean on?" Remus asked softly. "Are you an unfeeling pillar of stone?"

Harry slowly shook his head. "I don't know."

"You can't keep all of your emotions bottled up," Remus admonished lightly. "One day, you'll just explode."

Harry shrugged uncomfortably.

Remus let out a long sigh and smiled slightly at him. "Well, it's getting late. You should go to sleep."

Harry yawned despite himself. "Yeah. You too."

"Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Remus," Harry said, standing up. Just before Remus' face melded into the embers, he added, "Thanks."

* * *

As he and Ron waited for Hermione and Ginny just outside the portrait hole, Harry couldn't help but think, fleetingly, that his father would never have imagined his Invisibility Cloak being used for this sort of thing. Dumbledore, maybe. But not his father. 

And certainly not Remus. Harry felt a slight twinge of guilt as he stood beside the snoring Fat Lady. He felt closer to Remus than he ever had before after he'd talked to him last night, and he couldn't shake off the feeling that he was deceiving Remus. Of course he hadn't lied or anything; he'd just refrained from revealing the truth.

"Stop fidgeting," he whispered to Ron.

"What's keeping them?" Ron growled.

Harry shifted from under the cloak. "I dunno, but keep still!_"_

"Why don't we just use the Disillusionment Charm?"

"I _told _you," Harry said irritably, "there're magic detection charms on the school now. We aren't even supposed to be _awake _at two in the morning, never mind using magic."

The portrait hole silently swung open before Ron could reply, and two shadowy figures emerged into the corridor.

"Harry?" one of them whispered.

"Here," Harry said, slipping the cloak off of his head. He pulled the Marauder's Map out of his pocket as Hermione and Ginny hurried toward him. _"I solemnly swear I am up to no good."_ The blank parchment immediately changed to reveal a map of the school and the grounds. Everyone was where they should have been - except them, of course.

"Coast is clear," he said. "Let's go."

The four of them swiftly set off, taking all the shortcuts they knew of and keeping to the shadows. Harry glanced down at the Marauder's Map every five steps to make sure they didn't run into anyone while Ron carried the Invisibility Cloak; it was obviously impractical for all four of them to huddle under it.

They had decided that morning to leave by way of the secret passage that led to Hogsmeade. It was the fastest way to get out of the school grounds, and there was less chance of detection. Ginny led the way down to the statue of the hump-backed witch on the third floor.

"Password's _dissendium," _Harry told her as they approached the statue. He took one last look at the Marauder's Map before whispering _"Mischief managed,"_ and waving his wand over it. Ginny repeated the password to the statue and it sprang aside. She scrambled into the hidden passageway it revealed, followed by Hermione and Ron. Harry took one last look at the empty corridor before hurrying in after them.

They lit their wands as the statue resumed its place. Silently, they made their way through the tunnel, the sounds of their breathing echoing in the enclosed space.

"Hold on," Harry said suddenly.

The others stopped and turned to look at him.

"We only have to be outside Hogwarts' boundaries to Apparate, right?" he asked, directing the question at Hermione.

She nodded slowly. "Yes, because that's as far as the wards extend. Why?"

"We're off the map," Harry said, taking out the Marauder's Map again to show them. Indeed, they were no longer indicated as being within the school grounds. "We can go from here."

Ron and Hermione looked at each other.

"Well," Ron said in a calm voice that Harry could tell was forced. "Let's go then, shall we?"

Hermione sighed. "Okay."

Harry, who after some practice felt confident enough to Apparate on his own, watched Ron and Ginny take hold of Hermione's hands. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself.

"Ready?" Harry asked. "Little Hangleton."

He had showed them an image of the cemetery several nights ago. As Hermione closed her eyes he wondered whether she'd really memorized what it looked like; she had made him promise that if they didn't show up within three minutes, he would Apparate directly back to Hogwarts.

"One," Hermione said, her voice trembling slightly.

"Two…" Harry said, closing his own eyes. _Three D's. Destination, determination, deliberation. Little Hangleton._

"Three," they said in unison.

––––––

Ginny gasped as her feet slammed into the ground, sending waves of shock up her legs. Hermione squeezed her hand before letting it go.

"Did we make it?" Ron asked faintly, getting back to his feet.

"Apparently," Harry said grimly. He already had his wand in hand and was looking around warily.

Ginny pulled her own wand out of her pocket and glanced at her surroundings. The moon shone oddly bright upon them, illuminating the area with a whitish glow. A ghostly fog misted around them, its wispy tendrils brushing against her legs. The outline of a small church was barely visible beyond a large yew tree to her right, and the black shadow of a hill loomed above to the left. Headstones dotted the plot of land behind them, most of the engraved names obscured by the fog, but a particularly large marble headstone towered above them. Ginny could just make out the name: TOM RIDDLE.

"That wasn't here before," Harry said suddenly, pointing out to their left.

She turned, following his outstretched arm to see a little shack wilting in the shade of a copse of trees.

"It certainly doesn't look new," Hermione said, eyeing the run-down hut suspiciously. She and Ron also had their wands out.

"The Horcrux might be in there," Ginny murmured, taking a step forward. It was undoubtedly a bad hiding spot for something so important – the door seemed too small for its frame and was rotting at the edges; the thatched roof sagged downward and was mottled with holes; the single pane of glass beside the door was filthy and had a jagged crack in the center. She couldn't quite bring herself to believe that the Dark Dork would hide his precious bit of soul in a debilitated shack on the outskirts of a cemetery. All it would take was a wild animal to sneak in and take it, or a strong wind to knock the place down.

Harry held out his arm, barring her way. "Wait. I'll go first."

She frowned but didn't protest as he cautiously advanced toward the shack, wand at the ready. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione followed several steps behind him.

Harry surveyed the rotting wooden door for a moment. His eyes narrowed as he stared at a small hole in the door at about eye-level; if Ginny hadn't known better, she could've sworn that he was looking _through _it.

Suddenly, he lowered his wand and called out, "Whoever's in there, come out now."

Ginny and Hermione looked at him in disbelief. How could there be someone _inside _that thing? Were they wrong? Was the Horcrux a _person?_

"Come out now," Harry repeated, "or I'll blow this shack apart."

Ginny didn't doubt for a moment that he would.

They waited in tense silence for nearly a minute; finally, the door creaked open.

Hermione stumbled back in shock, her hand clamped over her mouth. Ginny could only stare.

A short, wizened old man stood in the doorway. He remained standing behind the threshold, so that the moonlight barely lit up his weathered face. Large black shackles were chained to his arms and legs.

Ginny could tell that even Harry was stunned. He stood in a defensive stance, his wand up and pointing at the old man's heart.

"Who are you?" he asked slowly, his disbelief evident in his voice.

The old man held out his hands; the chains clanked together. "You know who I am, I think," he rasped in a low voice, "as I know who you are."

"How do I know you're not an imposter?" Harry returned. "A Death Eater in disguise?"

"Harry," Hermione whispered shrilly, stepping forward, "it's Mr. Ollivander!"

"Don't move!" Harry said sharply.

Ginny swallowed hard. That man couldn't _really _be Mr. Ollivander, the wand maker. No way. He was too thin, too gaunt, too skeletal. He hadn't _really _been kidnapped. He'd gone into hiding. The newspapers had said that there had been no sign of struggle within his shop – because he hadn't been there. He'd hid before the Death Eaters had come calling. That was why.

The man shook his head. "I am nothing more and nothing less than what you see," he said calmly and surely.

"What I see is not always what it seems to be," Harry responded, just as evenly.

Ginny could feel the tension and impatience building in her body. How could they be conversing so lightly at a time like this?

"I see that times have changed," the man said, apparently amused by Harry's reply.

"Times are always changing," Harry countered. "It's just that we don't always notice."

A smile ghosted across the man's face. "You are not the boy who entered my shop seven years ago," he mused. "The wand has chosen well. And yet…"

The words hung in the air between them; Harry seemed to be holding his breath, waiting for the man to finish.

The man let out a long sigh. "I have what you seek," he murmured, beckoning to Harry.

"You still haven't told me who you are," Harry said stubbornly.

Another smile flitted across the man's face. "Of course," he said. "My name is Ollivander, owner of Ollivander's, Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 BC. I swear this on Merlin's grave. I sold you that wand, holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, in the afternoon of the thirty-first of July, 1991."

Ginny frowned. How did he _remember _that? And if this _was _Mr. Ollivander, what was he doing here? How did he get to be in this cemetery, chained to a shack? How had he survived until now?

Harry hesitated for a moment, his hand wavering; then he relented and shifted to a neutral position. "I believe you," he said simply. "You have what we're looking for?"

Mr. Ollivander's large, pale eyes glinted. "Rowan and unicorn tail hair, ten inches," he recited.

"Ravenclaw's wand," Harry breathed.

Ginny wanted to grab his arm, to tell him to be careful, to ask him to make sure this old wizard was really Mr. Ollivander. He had an eerie quality about him that Ginny had never liked. And for him to be here with the Horcrux, so conveniently… Even if he really was Mr. Ollivander, he could be following the Dark Dork's orders, he could be bait to lure Harry in, bait for a trap the Dark Dork had set because he knew Harry would come looking…

But before she could utter a word, Harry followed Mr. Ollivander into the shack.

Hermione let out a strangled sound; she dashed in after him, Ginny and Ron at her heels.

Their view of the shack had belied nothing about the interior. It was, if possible, even grimier and more dismal than the outside. Cobwebs hung from every available nook and a layer of grime coated every exposed surface. There was no furniture except for a rickety chair and a small, three-legged table in one corner. Slivers of moonlight were splayed across the rotting floorboards.

"H-how long have you been here?" Hermione asked, looking around in horror.

"Since August of last year," Mr. Ollivander answered. He led Harry to the small table and pulled out a worn cardboard box from beneath it. His movements were stiff and slow, hampered greatly by his shackles.

Harry took hold of one of them. "Who put these on?" he asked quietly.

"If I could have taken them off, I would have done so long ago," Mr. Ollivander replied heavily. "They're cursed. They won't come off with a simple spell."

Harry started tapping the links with his wand. "Then I won't use a simple spell."

Mr. Ollivander gently – but firmly, for such a small, weak man – tugged the chains out of Harry's hands. "The chains aren't important. This is." He reached into the box and pulled out a short, canvas-wrapped bundle. Harry's eyes narrowed again. "He knew I knew what he did with it," he said grimly. "A Horcrux. Terrible, terrible magic. When his Death Eaters returned to retrieve it, they said I was to come with them. Threatened to burn down the shop if I didn't. I made them promise they wouldn't touch a single wand if I went quietly. I've been here ever since, guardian of this wand."

Ginny shuddered.

"Why's it wrapped up?" Ron asked, frowning.

There was a strange look on Mr. Ollivander's face. "I cannot touch it," he said, shaking his head.

_Can't touch a mutilated wand,_ Ginny thought, wholeheartedly agreeing. It would be worse for a wand maker to behold his own wand, tainted with the soul of a Dark wizard…

"But how do you live here?" Hermione whispered.

"Oh, I manage," Mr. Ollivander said lightly. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named doesn't want me dead, after all. They keep the place warm and send food every once in a while." He indicated the empty tray beside the door.

"Why didn't you contact anyone?" Harry asked, knitting his brows. "Hogwarts, the Ministry, anyone."

Mr. Ollivander gave him a sardonic smile. "Now, Mr. Potter, I'm sure we both know that he's not that stupid. There are wards that prevent the use of magic within this area. They also prevent me from stepping foot from here."

"What if they come back?" Ginny said suddenly. "The Death Eaters. Don't they check on you?"

"Occasionally," Mr. Ollivander said. He placed the bundle on the table, in front of Harry. "Not often."

"Then we'll destroy it and leave," Harry said, picking the bundle up. He unwrapped part of it and peered inside. Apparently satisfied that it was the real thing, he wrapped it back up. Looking at Mr. Ollivander again, he said, "You too."

"You would do better to take it back to Hogwarts and take care of it there," Mr. Ollivander said, glancing at the door.

Ginny felt uneasy. The Death Eaters were probably coming; it would be just their luck.

"He's right, Harry," Hermione said anxiously. "Let's take it back to Hogwarts. We don't need to do it here."

"Yes, we do," Harry said quietly. He was still looking at Mr. Ollivander. "You can't leave, can you? Not until the Horcrux is gone."

Mr. Ollivander didn't say anything.

"If he's going to go with us, we need to destroy this here, now," Harry said to Hermione and Ron. He glanced at Ginny but his eyes revealed nothing.

She cursed inwardly. _Damn that Dark Dork. _He _was _using Mr. Ollivander as bait – he knew Harry wouldn't leave without the wand maker. He was probably hoping to catch Harry here, inside the shack where he couldn't use magic – or he might sacrifice a piece of his soul and let Harry use his energy on destroying it, after which he would be vulnerable…

"My well-being is nothing compared to yours," Mr. Ollivander said, shaking his head. "Don't worry about me. I know what happens when a Horcrux is destroyed, and you can't afford to do it here. None of us will be able to help you, and the magic will alert the Death Eaters, if not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself."

"Hermione can do side-along Apparition," Harry said, nodding at her. She pressed her lips together tightly, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "You can Apparate too, can't you? Once the Horcrux is gone?"

"I imagine so," Mr. Ollivander said cautiously. "But – "

"Good. Once it's destroyed, we can leave."

Without waiting for any protests, Harry turned on his heel and strode out of the shack. Hermione groaned as she hurried out after him. Ginny and Ron glanced at each other before following.

Harry was standing about ten paces from the big marble headstone of Tom Riddle. He had unwrapped the bundle and set Ravenclaw's wand – or what Mr. Ollivander _claimed _to be Ravenclaw's wand; Ginny still wasn't sure if she trusted him completely – on the ground before him.

"Harry!" Hermione blurted, wringing her hands. "Harry, I don't know if I – "

Harry turned to her and smiled. "You can, Hermione. I know you can."

Ginny went to stand on his other side so that she, Ron, and Hermione formed a rough circle around him. Mr. Ollivander was watching them from the doorway.

Harry gave Ginny a fleeting grin before facing the wand again, whispering, "Wish me luck."

Ginny gripped her wand and forced a smile. "Good luck."

Taking a deep breath, Harry raised his wand. Ginny could already feel the air churning around him. Just before he uttered the spell, she heard him whisper, "Cedric, this is for you."

Then, his eyes blazing, he bellowed, _"Exudirum!" _(1)

A blast of fire erupted from Harry's wand; fire so bright and searing that Ginny thought the sun had fallen on them. The heat singed her face and she dove to the ground, eyes screwed shut. She scrambled away blindly, away from the fire and the screaming.

Burning blasts of air buffeted her body as her hands felt the cool marble of a headstone; she crawled behind it and crouched there, too afraid to even open her eyes. Someone was shouting, but she couldn't make out the words over the howling wind. She held her wand in an iron grip and curled up, wishing only for it to end, to be over…

And just like that, it was.

Ginny's eyes snapped open and she found herself staring out into the moonlit cemetery. No fire, no screaming, no wind. There was a groan from behind her. Cautiously, she craned her neck around the headstone, scared of what she would see.

Her eyes widened. There was a huge crater before her; it had to be at least ten feet in diameter. The dirt around it was still smoking. Harry lay at its center, face down, his wand several feet away.

"Harry!" Ginny cried, leaping up to retrieve his wand. Hermione and Ron jumped up from where they'd been hiding and joined her as she bent down over Harry's motionless body. _Oh damn, oh damn, oh damn._

"Hermione, we've got to – "

There was a thud behind them; Ginny spun around to see that Mr. Ollivander had fainted.

Before she could do anything else, she heard swishing noises fill the air. Out the corner of her eye, she could see black shadows materializing around them.

"Bloody, bloody Merlin," Ron whispered slowly.

The shadows crept closer, and Ginny could make out the white skull masks and the black cloaks.

_Damn._

* * *

Up Next: Everything comes at a price. 

(1) _Exudirum _is another made-up incantation for our made-up spell. Derived from the Latin _diruo, _to demolish and _exuro_, to burn down.

Bang out a word or two to let us know you missed us. :P  



	15. Gone

Hey everyone - thanks for the reviews and sorry for the wait! Here's fourteen. :)

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Gone -** _"It is difficult to realize that you cannot win every battle for every friend. It is difficult to understand and accept your own limitations, and with them, the recognition that while you try to do the best you can, it will often prove inadequate." – Drizzt Do'Urden, The Lone Drow, R.A. Salvatore_

Ron closed his eyes, praying to every god there was that when he opened them again, he'd be back in his four poster at Hogwarts.

He opened his eyes to find himself surrounded by at least a dozen Death Gobblers.

_No such luck._

"Ron," Hermione said, her voice wavering as she took a step back toward Harry's motionless body.

"Well, well, well," someone drawled, emerging from the ring of Death Gobblers to approach them. "What a pleasant surprise."

Ron wondered what they would say if he called them Death Gobblers. He fought the insane urge to laugh. _Why not_? They'd lost anyway. Maybe with Harry they would've had a chance, but he was unconscious at best. The eerie wand maker had fainted too – not that he would've been much help.

Him, Hermione, and Ginny against twelve Death Gobblers. Ron felt the mad urge to laugh again as despair threatened to overwhelm him. He was going to die. They were all going to die.

"Put your wands down, hmm?" the Death Gobbler in front of them said softly. Dark eyes glinted behind the mask. "Don't make a fuss, now."

"That's right," another voice called out. "Just hand Potter over like good little children, and maybe we'll kill you quickly."

"Never!" Hermione said shrilly, brandishing her wand at them. Ron groaned inwardly as the Death Gobblers laughed.

"You can take him," Ginny snarled, "over my dead body."

Ron could almost see the smirk behind the Death Gobbler's mask. "As you wish, little girl," he said obligingly. He raised his wand and pointed it at her.

"Hermione, take him back," Ron heard Ginny whisper as she raised her own wand. "Take Harry back, now!"

"Ginny, no!" Hermione whispered back fiercely. "Ron – "

_He's going to kill my sister._

_He can't kill my sister._

"_Avada Kedav – !"_

"_Expelliarmus!"_ Ron bellowed, jabbing his wand in the Death Gobbler's direction. One of his companions stepped forward and cast a shield around him, but five more jets of red light slammed into him from behind, shattering the shield and blasting the Death Gobbler off his feet.

There was instant chaos as more jets of light shot out of nowhere. The Death Gobblers seemed to have forgotten them momentarily as they looked around wildly, haphazardly casting shields and firing off curses. Ginny took this chance to hit the nearest Death Gobbler with a Stunner and immobilize another before several of them turned their attention back to her.

Ron stepped forward so that he was standing next to her. They glanced at each other, thinking the same thing – they couldn't leave without Harry, but if they stayed here, they'd be cut down easily.

"Hermione, you have to take Harry back," Ginny said in a low voice, seeming strangely calm as the leering Death Gobblers approached them. There were more screams from around them as the unknown spells found their targets. Ron could only hope that it was the Order, and that they'd show themselves soon.

"B-but what about – "

"Don't argue with me," Ginny growled. "We can't fight them off and guard Harry at the same time. Take him back and tell Professor McGonagall!"

"You're not going anywhere," a Death Gobbler hissed. His black cloak billowed around him as he flourished his wand, and before either Ron or Ginny could react he shouted, _"Crucio!"_

"_Protego!"_ a familiar voice cried. A giant purple bubble shimmered over them, flashing white as the Unforgivable Curse hit it.

Lupin had appeared beside them, issuing instructions to the five other Order members that he'd arrived with.

"Lupin!" Hermione said, almost sobbing with relief. "Lupin, Mr. Ollivander – "

"Take Harry back!" Lupin shouted, cutting her off. The shield had dissipated and the Death Gobblers, who now knew exactly who their attackers were, had begun to close in on them. Lupin slashed his wand at one who broke into a run toward them, felling him immediately. "Take him back!"

"But we – "

"_Take him back!"_ Lupin roared, blasting another Death Gobbler aside. "Sturgis, take Harry!"

"He took the wand maker back!" Kingsley yelled back, struggling against a brawny Death Gobbler who had cast aside his wand and was trying to go for Kingsley's neck with his beefy hands.

"_Hermione!" _Lupin bellowed. "_Take Harry and leave!"_

"Let's go!" Ginny shouted, grabbing Hermione's sleeve and dragging her toward Harry.

Ron was about to follow them when Lupin seized his shirt and yanked him down, yelling, "Duck!" A blast of silver light shot over their heads, singing Ron's hair.

"You too," Lupin said, roughly pushing him in Hermione's direction. "Go!"

Ron stumbled toward where Ginny was trying to get Hermione to calm down enough to Apparate. "Concentrate!" he heard her say as she glanced desperately at the battle raging around them. The Order was outnumbered at least two to one, _and_ they were trying to keep the Death Gobblers away from Harry.

_Why didn't Lupin bring more people?_ Ron thought bewilderedly as he just barely avoided another curse.

"Ron!" Ginny shouted. "Ron, where – "

He looked up in horror as he heard her words cut off, only to discover that she, Hermione, and Harry were gone.

He stared numbly at where they'd been kneeling just a moment ago.

"Ron, I told you to get out of here!" Lupin yelled, risking a glance back at him as he parried a furious barrage of hexes.

"I-I can't!" Ron cried, feeling the panic well up inside him as he looked around. _They're gone. They're gone!_ "They left!"

Lupin swore loudly and cut down the Death Gobbler that had been chasing after Tonks. "Do you think you can Apparate?"

"I-I – "

"_Watch out!" _Sturgis roared, dashing in from nowhere and tackling Ron to the ground. A giant ball of fire rocketed over their heads and exploded against a tombstone, sending splinters of rock and debris flying everywhere.

"Sturgis, he has to go!" Lupin yelled.

Sturgis grunted in response as he pulled Ron to his feet. They dodged several spells and ran toward the run-down shack. Sturgis slammed the door and sealed it shut behind them after they stumbled in.

"Here," Sturgis panted, reaching inside his robes and producing an empty pack of cigarettes. "Portkey. Mad-Eye made it just before we got here. It'll take you to the Burrow. Tell your mum and dad, Charlie, Bill, anyone who's there. Go, take it!"

Ron took the Portkey at Sturgis' urging.

"All right, ready?" Sturgis said, glancing back at the door. "One…two…three!

* * *

"Ron!" Hermione screamed hysterically into the darkness of the tunnel. "We forgot Ron! Oh my God, oh my God – " 

"Shut up, Hermione, you'll wake the whole damn castle!" Ginny said fiercely. _"Lumos! _Ron's probably fine. He's with Lupin. We have to get out of here first. Harry – "

"He's still – still unconscious," Hermione said, trying to take deep, steadying breaths. "I-I can levitate him."

"All right," Ginny said, nodding. "Okay. Let's go."

She'd been trying to stay calm; she'd actually felt oddly composed when she'd faced the oncoming Death Gobblers. But now they'd left Ron back at the cemetery, Harry was unconscious at best, and there were half a dozen Order members trying to fight twice the number of Death Gobblers…

Her wand hand shook as she hurriedly led the way back out of the tunnel. She could see Harry's levitating body and his lolling head out of the corner of her eye. _He's fine,_ she assured herself. _He'll be okay when we get him to the Hospital Wing._

"There's the end," she said, breaking into a run as they neared the entrance hole that the statue was blocking. _"Dissendium!"_

The statue sprang aside, revealing the dimly lit third floor corridor. Ginny sighed in relief as she climbed out and turned around to help Hermione.

"Ginny, take Harry to the Hospital Wing," Hermione whispered. "I'll go tell Professor McGonagall."

Ginny nodded quickly; she'd just been about to ask if she could take Harry since she didn't know the password to the Headmistress' office. Hermione lowered Harry to the ground and dashed off.

Ginny let out a shaky breath as she looked down at him. She hadn't realized how frightened she'd been – still was – until now, but she couldn't let that get in her way. Pointing her wand at him, she murmured, _"Mobilicorpus."_

Harry's body rose into the air. His head and arms hung limply back, like he was –

Ginny roughly shook her head and turned her hurried footsteps toward the Hospital Wing.

* * *

"Remus, he's okay!" 

Remus turned to see Sturgis sprinting out of the shack. "Good," Remus called back. "Go help Kingsley!"

There were still about seven Death Eaters standing, three of whom were being pounded by Mad-Eye. Tonks and Hestia were engaged with one each, while Kingsley was staving off the remaining two. Remus watched Sturgis rush to Kingsley's aid.

_Where are the others?_ he thought angrily as he came up behind the Death Eaters Mad-Eye was dueling. Sturgis had first noticed that Harry had gotten out of bed, via the tag they'd put on him. He had argued fiercely against this, of course, but now he shuddered to think what would have happened if they hadn't.

He, Tonks, and Kingsley had been together in the Auror office when Sturgis found them. They had then sent out signals to the rest of the Order, but only Hestia and Mad-Eye showed up before they'd decided they couldn't wait any longer.

Mad-Eye caught Remus' eye and, at Remus' nod, he Disapparated. Remus hit the three confused Death Eaters with Sleep Jinxes before they even had time to turn around. Mad-Eye reappeared next to Remus with a wide grin on his face.

"Bloody bastards," he said, wiping blood off his face. He flicked his wand and the sleeping Death Eaters were immediately bound up tightly with rope. "Think there might be more coming?"

"Possibly," Remus sighed. "I don't know what happened to the rest of the Order."

Mad-Eye shrugged. "Still in their beds," he said. "No matter. Let's go finish – "

A sudden scream made them look up. Someone – Remus couldn't see who – had fallen to the ground with a Death Eater bearing down –

Before he could do anything, a thunderous explosion overhead knocked him off his feet.

"Remus!" he heard Mad-Eye shout, but the air was filled with a thick smoke that stung his eyes. "Remus, there're more!"

Coughing, Remus leapt to his feet and slashed at the murky air with his wand. A swathe of smoke disappeared, and Remus saw that there were a dozen more Death Eaters in the cemetery. Heart pounding, he charged forward and began firing off curses. _Who fell? Kingsley? Hestia? Sturgis? Or…Tonks?_

Fear and rage gripped him as he rammed his shoulder into a short, lumpy Death Eater, slamming him against a shattered grave marker.

"Remus!"

Remus whipped around as several popping sounds announced the arrival of more people – people from the Order.

"Remus, Mad-Eye!" Arthur yelled as he came running toward him. Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George followed on his heels.

"Someone's down!" Mad-Eye roared as he sent off a sizzling blast of sparks at a group of Death Eaters closing in around him.

The four Weasley brothers dove into the fray without a moment's hesitation. Remus blocked a Full-Body Bind from a wiry little Death Eater and blasted him aside as he ran toward the source of the scream. He could see Sturgis and Kingsley furiously battling the five Death Eaters around them, but neither Tonks nor Hestia was visible.

Remus gritted his teeth and raised his wand, but two large Death Eaters suddenly blocked his path. Remus shot off a Confunding Curse at one and ducked away to the side to avoid a Killing Curse. He dashed away from them into the rows of graves, and they gave chase. He vaulted over a tombstone and darted behind a small statue of a dragon as stone and dirt blew up into fragments behind him. The two Death Eaters were shouting at each other. Taking a deep breath, Remus spun around to face them again and managed to fell one before a foot connected painfully with his side. He felt his feet leave the ground as he flew through the air and hit a tombstone.

Pain erupted in Remus' head as he crumpled to the ground. He had to run, he had to get away…but his legs wouldn't respond, there was a stabbing pain in his chest…

"_Cru – "_

"_Immobulus!" _two voices shouted in unison. The Cruciatus Curse was cut off as the caster and his companion were frozen where they stood.

Two pairs of hands grabbed Remus' arms and helped him to his feet.

"You don't look so good," he heard a voice say.

"Not good at all," another voice agreed. "Can you stand?"

Remus nodded stiffly as the Weasley twins tapped his head with their wands. To Remus' great surprise, the pain in his head subsided almost immediately.

"Little trick of ours," Fred said with a grin.

"Anything else hurt?" George asked. "That bloke caught you right in the ribs, didn't he?"

"I'm fine," Remus muttered, shaking his head. "Thank you."

"No problem," Fred said. "I say, those chaps are having all the fun. What d'you say we jump back in, George?"

"Excellent idea, Fred," George beamed. "Lupin?"

Remus gave them a grim smile. "Of course. Do you know if anyone else is hurt?"

"Except for these rotten little buggers, no," Fred said, looking the immobilized Death Eaters up and down. "Should we tie them down?"

"Why not?" George shrugged. _"Incarcerous!"_

He and Fred nodded in approval as the bound Death Eaters crashed to the ground. "Well then, let's – oh damn."

Four more Death Eaters had appeared, surrounding them.

"Not so fast," one of them cackled. The other three grinned wickedly.

"Just how many of you are there?" George said, sounding annoyed.

"And how long is it going to take to learn your lessons?" Fred added, putting his hands on his hips.

"The only lesson that's going to be learned here," another Death Eater said menacingly, "is that little children shouldn't mess – "

" – With Dark magic, we know," Fred said, rolling his eyes. Then, quick as lightning, he and George each pulled out what looked like two small, black balls from their pockets and threw them at the four Death Eaters, who promptly disappeared.

Remus stared in shock.

"Vanishing spells," George explained, giving Fred the thumbs up. "They'll be back in a century or so."

Remus ran a hand through his hair and gave a shaky laugh. Who knew the two pranksters would prove to be so useful? "It's – "

Urgent shouts from the battlefield interrupted him.

"Uh-oh," Fred sighed. "Looks like our presence is required elsewhere."

"Nice chatting with you," George said, clapping Remus on the back and making him wince.

The twins Disapparated with loud pops. With a last glance at the fallen Death Eaters, Remus too ran back to the battlefield as fast as his lungs would allow.

There was a column of smoke climbing toward the sky near the edge of the woods; Remus suspected it was the old shack that was on fire. He heard Bill and Kingsley's voices ringing out over the din, as well as cries of pain and the sizzle of magic.

He skidded to a stop as Charlie suddenly staggered past him, locked in a ferocious duel with a blocky Death Eater.

"_Expelliarmus!" _Remus shouted. The Death Eater's wand flew out of his hand, giving Charlie enough time to knock him out cold.

"Thanks," Charlie said before racing off again. Remus stepped over the unconscious Death Eater and looked around; Arthur and Bill were dueling back to back against two Death Eaters while Fred and George were clearing the way for Charlie to put out the fire engulfing the shack. Kingsley was tackling another Death Eater and Mad-Eye was roping three others around a large statue. There was no sign of Sturgis, Hestia, or Tonks.

Remus had started heading toward Charlie when one of the Death Eaters shot red sparks into the air. All the remaining Death Eaters Disapparated a moment later.

Everyone stopped suddenly, divested of their opponents. Charlie, Fred, and George doused the last of the flames.

"Are they really gone?" Kingsley called wearily, his hands on his knees.

"Maybe, maybe not," Mad-Eye grunted, "but we're not going to wait around and see if they come back. Arthur, Bill, Kingsley – you three round up all the Death Eaters and take them to the Ministry. We can let the Aurors deal with them later."

"Where's Sturgis?" Remus asked, scanning the scorched and churned dirt of the battlefield. "Hestia? Tonks?"

"I saw Sturgis before," Fred said. "He was dueling a huge Death Eater back there, behind the graves. I think Hestia and Tonks were with him."  
It was all Remus needed to hear; he dashed over to where Fred had pointed, a spot just behind a large cluster of graves. _Let them be all right. Let her be all right._

When he got closer, he saw a silver lion hovering above a tombstone. Its fur glittered in the light of the moon, a wispy silver fog. It lifted its head.

Remus stopped.

Tonks was sitting with her back against a grave marker, her eyes closed and her breathing shallow. Her white face was streaked with blood and dirt. The vibrant pink of her hair had half-faded, as if the cold gray stone of the grave marker was leaching it out.

Sturgis was kneeling in the dirt beside her, his battered face bowed. His body was bent forward, shielding something – someone – that he held in his arms.

_No._

Sturgis looked up at the sound of his footsteps. For a moment their eyes met.

_No._

Sturgis laid her down calmly, gently. She lay in tranquil repose upon the bloody ground. He touched her forehead, brushing back her thick black hair. Her normally rosy cheeks had been drained of color.

Sturgis got to his feet.

"Sturgis," Remus said softly.

But Sturgis turned away, slipping his wand into his robes. The silver lion shimmered, then dissipated.

"Sturgis!"

He vanished.

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Up Next: Draco wants his life back and to know just what Snape's doing. 

Please review? Everyone?


	16. Fickle Loyalties

Muchas gracias and merci beaucoup for the reviews - maybe it'll inspire others to do likewise? Anyway, here's chapter fifteen!**  
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**Fickle Loyalties** – _"Whose side is Jack on?" "At the moment?" – Elizabeth and Will, Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl_

There was a short burial for Hestia in her family cemetery, just outside Carlisle.

Kingsley had volunteered to break the news of Hestia's death to her grandfather, whom she had gone to live with after her parents died. Kingsley reported back that Mr. Jones had taken the news fairly well, and that Hestia's extended family would be honored to have the Order attend the funeral.

Minerva had received a message from Sturgis the day after the battle, just before Remus had considered sending someone out to look for him. It said that he was fine and that he had resumed work on Hufflepuff's Cup, but it contained no mention of where he was. Minerva sent a message back listing the date, time, and location of Hestia's funeral.

Remus had doubted Sturgis would show up, and he didn't. The attraction between Sturgis and Hestia had not been openly proclaimed, but they had both been quiet people. Most of the Order had known anyway, and no one asked questions about Sturgis' absence.

Remus shook his head sadly. Hestia had been one of the younger, more promising members, and he hated battles all the more when it took young lives. He cringed to think of how Harry would take it; no doubt he would see Hestia's death as his fault.

Beside him, Tonks sighed heavily as she watched Minerva bid a final farewell to the grieving Mr. Jones and his family. She leaned on him for support and he silently slipped his arm around her waist. Tonks had also been gravely injured by the attack that had killed Hestia; although her broken arm and leg had been healed quickly at St. Mungo's, her chest had been wrapped in bandages for nearly a week now.

Minerva turned away from the Jones family with her head bowed. She motioned to the rest of the Order that it was time to leave. They formed a rough circle around Hestia's grave, with Minerva standing before the grave marker. They raised their wands and, at Minerva's signal, cast the well-rehearsed spell as one.

A fiery, golden phoenix rose gracefully into the air, the Order's final salute to the fallen.

––––––

"Molly?"

Molly looked up quickly from the stove as Remus entered the kitchen. She hurriedly wiped her eyes with her sleeve, but it was clear that she had been crying. "Oh, Remus, dear – how's Tonks doing?"

"I sent her to bed," Remus said, smiling slightly. "She's sleeping sound as a rock."

"Poor thing," Molly said, shaking her head as she turned back to one of her big, steaming pots. "She must be exhausted."

Remus nodded in silent agreement. "I came to ask you – do you mind if I use your fire?"

"No, no, go right ahead," Molly answered. "The Floo powder's right on the mantle."

"Thank you," Remus said as he turned his footsteps toward the living room. He located the jar of Floo powder and withdrew a pinch onto his hand. Then, he pulled out a small drawstring pouch from his pocket and shook some of its contents out onto the Floo powder. Replacing the pouch, Remus mixed the two powders together with his finger. When he was satisfied with the mixture, he threw it into the fire and said, "Hogwarts."

––––––

Madam Pomfrey looked up from her desk as Remus gave a polite cough. "Oh, you're here."

Remus nodded as best as he could; he had always disliked fire-talking because of the restricted movement and the pain of kneeling for too long. "How's Harry?"

"Nothing yet," Madam Pomfrey said resignedly as she set her quill down. "It's the same as before; it just seems as though he's in a deep sleep, but nothing can wake him."

Remus sighed. "It's already been five days."

"Only one more than the last time," Madam Pomfrey said dryly. "I expect it's just magical exhaustion he's recovering from."

Remus nodded again. "Is Hermione or Ron here? Then again, it is time for dinner…"

"No, they left a couple minutes ago, but I believe Miss Weasley is still here," Madam Pomfrey said in a voice that clearly indicated her disapproval.

"That's even better," Remus said with a smile. "Can I see her?"

"I suppose, but mind you don't keep her too long, Remus Lupin," Madam Pomfrey said sternly. "I've already told her she's late for dinner."

She stood up and walked out of her office, shutting the door behind her. Remus vaguely heard her saying something to Ginny; the door opened again a moment later and the youngest Weasley entered the room. She hurried over and dropped to her knees in front of the fire.

"Is it safe to do that?" she demanded.

Remus chuckled. "Harry asked the same thing. Fred and George invented a new powder you can mix with the Floo powder; it makes this part of the Floo Network essentially undetectable for a period of time."

"How long?" Ginny asked curiously.

"About twenty minutes," Remus replied. "They say they're still working on it."

Nodding, Ginny sat cross-legged on the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees. "Harry still hasn't woken up," she said quietly.

"He'll be fine," Remus said reassuringly. "Magical exhaustion takes considerable time to recover from."

_And it'll take longer and longer each time to fight off the influences of the Horcrux, because the continuous exposure to the Dark elements will trigger the piece of soul within his own body…_

Remus irritably chased the thought away.

"Oh, and how's Mr. Ollivander?" Ginny asked.

"No word yet," Remus answered gravely. "St. Mungo's has him in the Critical Condition wing, but that's all we know."

"What happened to him?" Ginny said bemusedly. "I mean, he looked half-starved and all, but that's not enough to put someone in Critical Condition."

"He was weak, yes," Remus said grimly. "The Death Eaters had been keeping him in that shack since August, which is over half a year. I'm guessing they didn't treat him like a prince."

"But why?" Ginny asked. "If the Dark Dork knew Mr. Ollivander had Ravenclaw's wand, why didn't he just take the wand and kill Mr. Ollivander?"

Remus was looking at her strangely. "What did you call him?"

"What? Who?"

"Voldemort," Remus said curiously. "What did you call him?"

"Oh," Ginny said, suddenly realizing that although 'Dark Dork' and 'Death Gobblers' were in wide use _inside _the school, nobody had ever mentioned the terms to people _outside_. "The Dark Dork. It was Harry's idea."

Remus stared at her for another moment before laughing. "Dark Dork, hmm? James and Sirius would have loved that."

"We call Death Eaters the Death Gobblers, too," Ginny said with a grin.

"We?"

"The entire school," Ginny elaborated. "Harry made them up because people were afraid to say the real names."

Remus nodded in approval. "Excellent," he murmured. He liked the sound of it – Dark Dork. "And about your question, Volde- the Dark Dork had ample reason to bring Ollivander along. He used him as bait."

"Bait?" Ginny repeated. "So it _was _a trap? Did he call the Death Gobblers?"

"So far as we know, no. We're assuming that they were alerted some other way – it could have been the removal of the Horcrux from the shack, its destruction, or something else. But we know that there was a powerful spell placed on him that obliged him to protect the wand."

"Was it an Unbreakable Vow?" Ginny asked quickly.

Remus shook his head. "Probably not. He would've died as soon he let the wand fall into someone else's hands, and you three said that he didn't collapse until after the Horcrux was destroyed."

Ginny nodded affirmatively and waited for him to go on.

"We'll have to wait for the Healers' opinions, but we think that the condition of the spell was that if the Horcrux was destroyed, Ollivander would die," Remus said heavily. "Apparently the Dark Dork was counting on Ollivander valuing his life over another's. Of course, he was wrong."

"He didn't tell us," Ginny said softly. "He knew Harry would never destroy it if he knew it would cost a life."

"Exactly," Remus said darkly. "The Dark Dork should have known that Ollivander would never put the fate of the world second to his own life."

Ginny rested her chin on her knees and frowned. "How is he still alive then?"

"I wish I knew," Remus sighed. "He must have believed his death was near, too, because in his pocket we found hand-written instructions that were apparently intended for his successor in his wand-making business."

"Who is it?" Ginny asked. "I didn't know he had family."

"We didn't either," Remus said with a snort. "And we don't know who it was for – it just disappeared about five minutes after we took it from his pocket."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Figures. You know, sometimes I wish we'd just all been born as Muggles. Then we wouldn't have to deal with this."

Madam Pomfrey called out before Remus could answer. "Remus Lupin! What did I tell you about keeping that girl too long?"

"Damn," Ginny muttered, leaping to her feet. "Sorry, I've gotta go."

"No, it's my fault," Remus said. "Go eat, and we'll talk later. Send us word if Harry wakes up."

"Yup," Ginny said, waving over her shoulder as she sped out of the room.

Remus coughed as he pulled his head out of the fire. He sat back on his heels and absently dusted soot out of his hair.

_Sometimes I wish we'd just all been born as Muggles. Then we wouldn't have to deal with this._

_So do I, Ginny. So do I._

* * *

Draco cautiously craned his neck around the corner. He sighed in relief – the corridor was empty. 

He quickly darted into the next shadow, grimacing as his robes rustled around his ankles. He'd put a Disillusionment Charm and a Muffling Charm on himself, but didn't feel completely confident in the spells' ability to let him slip away undetected. _If only I had an Invisibility Cloak._

He continued to dash from shadow to shadow down the length of the corridor, constantly looking back. He had no idea where he was going – all he knew was that he needed to get out. With his wand in hand, he snuck out of the corridor and down the stairs. He warily approached the enormous front doors. _What if there's an alarm? Wards? Guards?_

He wiped his sweaty palms on his shirt and reached out to touch the door. He thought of Snape, still asleep upstairs. That had been the hardest part – getting out of the room without Snape knowing. _Bastard. He let my father and mother die. He let them die._

Gritting his teeth, he pushed the door open.

A cool breeze swept in through the opening, making him shiver. He quickly looked around for guards and, finding none, slipped outside and shut the door behind him. He wasted no time in immersing himself in the long grass.

The moon overhead was sickly and dim, casting minimal light around him. _All the better for running away._

He made a beeline toward the trees on his right – once he reached the cover of the forest he would be practically home free. His footsteps quickened as he neared the edge; he looked back once more but there was no one behind him.

He hastily hid behind the trunk of the first tree he saw. A sigh of relief escaped him.

_I'm free._

He looked down at his shaking hands and willed himself to calm down. _I'm free. _The only problem now was where to go from here.

_Home. I can go home._

The Malfoy mansion was now his property, as well as all of his parents' possessions and fortune. Snape had explained it to him the night after his parents died. _Everything is yours. You would do well to utilize it in the Dark Lord's favor._

How unperturbed he had seemed, how untroubled – Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy's deaths meant nothing to him. They were just nuisances that had deserved to be killed. He probably wanted Draco dead, too.

_Well, good riddance, you bastard. You traitor. I've had enough of you, of this place. I'm done. I want out._

He would be back to avenge his parents. He would make them all pay for standing there and watching.

Taking a deep breath, he turned his back on the run-down edifice. _I'm done._ _I'm leaving._

He closed his eyes. _Apparition. Malfoy mansion. Three D's._

"Lovely night for a stroll, isn't it?" someone whispered.

Draco froze. _Shit._

"Too bad you're not supposed to be out of bed, little Malfoy," the voice sneered. "Where do you think you're going?"

Draco opened his eyes to find a hooded Death Eater standing before him. The face was masked, but from the person's build and voice, he knew it could only be one person – Macnair.

The ex-executioner had always disliked the Malfoys. Draco's father had always complained about him and how he wasn't trustworthy.

Draco tensed and brought his wand up. He wondered briefly how Macnair had been able to see through his Disillusionment Charm, but quickly cast the thought away. He would kill Macnair if he had to; he wasn't going to let some sleazy Death Eater stop him. Not here.

Macnair eyed the wand, then threw his head back and laughed.

"What, are you going to attack me?" he cackled. "Kill me, maybe? Well then, little Malfoy, give it a try, hmm?"

Draco immediately launched into an attack. _"Expelliarmus!"_

"That won't work," Macnair said, shaking his head as he spun out of the way. "You can't kill me with that sort of spell!"

"_Impedimenta! Petrificus totalus!"_

Macnair created a shield and Draco's spells bounced off of it, careening into the forest.

"My turn," he grinned. _"Crucio!"_

Draco had been expecting it, but there was nothing he could do. The curse hit him and he dropped to the ground, writhing in pain.

"Muffling Charm, eh?" Draco heard Macnair say vaguely. "Good idea, little Malfoy."

Macnair flicked his wand and the pain receded, leaving Draco gasping into the dirt.

"Stand up," Macnair ordered. "I didn't come out here to fight a lousy duel."

Draco gritted his teeth. He picked up his wand again and launched himself to his feet. _"Sectumsempra!"_

A momentary look of fear flitted across Macnair's face and he barely recreated his shield in time to deflect the spell. Still, the force of it made him stagger backwards; Draco shot off two more spells before diving away to avoid Macnair's counterjinx.

"Oh-ho!" Macnair guffawed, wiping his bloody lip with his sleeve. "Finally living up to your family name, are you? Well, let's see how you take another round! _Crucio!"_

Malfoy tried to roll out of the way but it was in vain; a second later he was on the ground again, thrashing and flailing his arms. _Stop. Stop, make it stop, make it stop!_

Macnair's cackle echoed above him. "Didn't you know, little Malfoy? No one ever leaves the Dark Lord's service, and no one ever tries without getting punished." He flicked his wand again.

Draco collapsed, his breath coming in wheezing gasps. He stretched a trembling hand out toward his wand.

"Vim and vigor, I like that!" Macnair cried. "Willing to fight until the end?"

"_Cru- "_

Macnair clucked his tongue as he waved his wand, cutting off Draco's spell. "I don't think so! Those are big boy spells, little Malfoy. You might get hurt if you tried to use them."

"_Expelliarmus! Incarcerous!"_

Macnair dodged the first spell but had to conjure a blast of fire to stop the ropes from binding him.

"_Stupefy! Immobulus!"_

Macnair stumbled under the force of Draco's spells. Draco leapt to his feet again and sprinted deeper into the forest. _Now. I have to Apparate now! I can't beat Macnair!_

_Three D's. Malfoy mansion. One…two…_

"_Stupefy!"_

Draco felt the Stunner hit him in the small of his back – he was lifted off his feet, slammed into a nearby tree, and knew no more.

––––––

"_Rennervate."_

Snape watched impassively as Draco's eyes flickered open. _Foolish boy. No one ever stops being a Death Eater. No one._

Draco blearily looked around the room. Panic suddenly flashed across his face as he registered where he was; he tried to sit up but collapsed immediately, clutching his side.

Snape resisted the urge to help him; Macnair had told him of their duel in the forest. "So. Tried to run away?" Draco said nothing.

"You should thank Macnair. You would be in a much worse state if the Dark Lord had been informed of this."

Draco just glared.

Snape snorted. "Take off your cloak," he said.

Draco opened his mouth. "No."

"You need help," Snape said firmly, stepping forward.

"Get away from me," Draco hissed, batting away Snape's outstretched hand.

"You need help," Snape repeated flatly.

"Not from you," Draco snarled. "Not from a traitor."

Snape took a step backward, his eyes narrowing into slits.

"Whose side are you on, anyway?" Draco barreled on. "I saw your Patronus two days ago. Death Eaters don't cast Patronuses. The dementors are on our side. But you killed Dumbledore. You let my parents die. So whose side are you on?"

"And whose side are you on, Draco?" Snape whispered malevolently, hiding his clenched fists inside his robes. "Would you follow in your parents' footsteps? Do you want the glory your father never attained? Or are you afraid? Are you afraid of blood and killing? Do you want everything Dumbledore offered you – protection and safety, well-being…and love?"

Without waiting for an answer, Snape turned on his heel and swept out of the room.

* * *

His father was a Muggle alcoholic - an abusive, good-for-nothing bastard who would have cut off his own leg before coming home sober. 

His mother had been a gentle, soft-spoken witch who would no more shoot the Queen of England than reprimand her husband.

His earliest memories of them were of him shouting and her crying. It was a wonder they stayed together as long as they did.

She took her life soon after the start of his third year at Hogwarts. It wasn't even his father who told him the news – by then, the man was relation only by name. Dumbledore found him in the library one winter evening, poring as he usually was over texts on the Dark Arts. Quietly Dumbledore had taken a seat, unperturbed in the least by the scrawny boy glaring at him across the table.

"Severus, your mother has passed away," he'd said in his calm voice, laced with sorrow. Severus hadn't quite believed it at first, but the sadness in the old man's eyes had been sincere – as was everything about Dumbledore. "If there is any way I can be of assistance, I think you know where my office is."

And with that, he left.

Severus had always admired the headmaster. Aside from being a renowned wizard, Albus Dumbledore gave him everything he had always yearned for – a home, a place to learn, and encouragement. He never went home for the holidays after third year, preferring to stay in the confines of the castle with books and magic.

But Dumbledore wasn't the only figure he'd held in high regard. There was Lucius Malfoy, with his smooth, ice-like demeanor, haughty handsomeness, and surety of who he was and where he was supposed to be. There was Bellatrix Black, with her cold beauty and insidiously keen mind.

There was even James Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin – not because of who they were, but what they had. Potter – Quidditch captain, girl magnet, notorious prankster, and the only child of wealthy, doting parents. Black – popular with all but the most ascetic teachers, with his roguish charm and affability, despite sharing a name with one of the most distinguished families that supported the Dark Lord. Lupin – the good, little student all the teachers doted on because he was so smart, the solemn-eyed boy adults shook their heads after because he was never far from Potter and Black.

He could never be like them, and it was his parents he blamed for it.

It was Muggles he blamed for it.

If he had been born a pureblood, if his father hadn't been a bastard, he could have been like them. He wouldn't have been shunned and made fun of. He would have shoved Potter's oversized head up his arse.

He gave himself a new name, much like Voldemort had done in his years at Hogwarts: The Half-Blood Prince. Spurned by society and solitary by nature, he stuck to his studies and the Dark Arts. They fascinated him – that, and Potions. He plotted myriad ways to get his revenge on the so-called Marauders, to show everybody that he was better and more powerful than them. He detested every single one of them, all those people with a place and a sense of purpose, people with love and friendship and laughter.

And then there was Lily Evans, the Gryffindor half-blood. He hated her more than all the others put together. He hated her bright smile, her green eyes, her optimism. He hated how she was always looking out for others – even him. He hated how she and Potter were always around each other, and he hated how he thought about her.

But she was smart, and Severus couldn't help but respect her for that. She was the only one who could match him potion for potion in Slughorn's class. When Slughorn paired the two of them together to brew the complex Draught of Living Death, she pointed out shortcuts she had found after experimenting and revealed her own methods that produced far better results than his.

They shared more of their thoughts on potions and charms while Potter ground his teeth behind them. They wrote changes to the directions in each other's textbooks and passed Slughorn's classes with the highest grades.

And one day, as the class was preparing to brew Strengthening Potions, he found that he was waiting for Evans to come over and work with him. He _wanted _her to sit beside him, _wanted _to watch her deft hands prepare the ingredients, _wanted _to see that bright spark in her eyes as she worked.

But she sat down next to Potter, and he never spoke to her again. The betrayal he felt in his last years at Hogwarts was unbearable as he watched her join the Marauders, as she laughed when Potter put her arm around her shoulders, as she let him kiss her.

And everything he felt disappeared. He immersed himself in the Dark Arts once more, ignoring his classmates and working by himself. He nurtured the hate that had always lain within him until it was all that he could think of.

But as always, Dumbledore was there.

_You are never alone, Severus. You know where my office is. By the way, I recently acquired a vial of dragon's blood. I understand it is a powerful potions ingredient? I confess I'm not much of a potions man myself; perhaps you would like to help me find some use for it?_

Yet it was inevitable that the Dark Lord found him.

Lord Voldemort had been in his prime then. His name was feared through every country, county, town, and village. Death Eaters could be anywhere at any time. Opponents of his cause were quickly identified and disposed of. All that really stood between He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his ultimate goal was Dumbledore and his school.

That ultimate goal was a pureblood world. The fact that Voldemort himself was not a pureblood did not faze him. He had already split his soul five times – he was no longer human – and the one bit that still resided within his half-snake, half-monster body would be more or less pureblood. He despised Muggles, half-bloods and anyone associated with the like, because he loathed his Muggle father, Riddle Sr.

It was what the greatest Dark wizard in history held in common with a teenager ready to face the world, armed with nothing but knowledge, hate, and potential. Working together, master and servant, they rallied more followers to the Dark cause and quietly removed antagonists. Severus became an assassin of sorts, working magic in some places and applying his potions in others.

Many deaths were attributed to his name. More often than not, the people Lord Voldemort targeted were people he had known, people he had worked with.

Gideon and Fabian Prewett. Alice and Frank Longbottom. Edgar Bones. Marlene McKinnon. Benjy Fenwick.

It did not disconcert him as much as it should have. All he could think of was the glory, the feeling of superiority. Even Lucius Malfoy, Rodolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix Black – soon to be Bellatrix Lestrange – were subject to his influence. He wasn't at the top ranks, but he was close enough. He had climbed the ladder the traditional way – indeed, that was the only route up to the Dark Lord's favor – and he would never back down.

And then came the prophecy. Little Peter Pettigrew joined the plot, along with the rest of the so-called Marauders. Everything was perfectly planned. James and Lily Potter – cursed Lily Evans Potter – were obliterated in one night – along with Lord Voldemort.

To this day, Severus doesn't know how it happened. Why should the love of one dying mother – an unremarkable person, by all means – for her son be sufficient to decimate the most powerful wizard in the world?

Sirius Black was sent to Azkaban, accused of a crime that everyone but the right people knew he was not guilty of.

Harry Potter lived on.

In truth, Severus had believed that his master was dead. He had not even dreamed the Dark Lord could have survived whatever he had suffered. But he was a sworn Death Eater, bound by oath to finish what his master had begun. Lord Voldemort had wanted Harry Potter dead, and Harry Potter dead is what the world would have.

He switched sides – or so it seemed. For years he stayed on his guard, incredulous that Dumbledore would be fooled so easily. The old man took Severus at his word, that he had been wrong to join the Death Eaters, that he had been consumed by hatred, that he grieved for all the innocent people he had killed. He applied for a job at Hogwarts and got it – the perfect place to eradicate the Boy Who Lived.

Or so he thought. Right before the start of term in 1991, he got wind of startling news – Lord Voldemort lived. He immediately confirmed this with others he was sure were still devoted to the Dark Lord. And there was a message from his master – he wanted the boy for himself.

He still doesn't understand how Dumbledore couldn't see through him after all those years, how such an old man could be so trusting. Over and over, Dumbledore told Severus that he believed in him no matter what the others said. The headmaster confided in him about matters he would speak with no one else, about Harry. He would laugh, with that twinkle in his eye, and make him feel like he really belonged there. Like he had been loved. It was the most faith anyone had ever put in him, and it took him aback.

Four times, the Dark Lord failed. Four times, a hard-headed, arrogant teenage boy thwarted You-Know-Who.

Under specific directions, Severus was told not to interfere. Just to wait, to hide – to be a gatherer of information. He was back in the Order; he was in Dumbledore's confidence. You-Know-Who's return was made public, and still no one but the Potter boy was convinced he had not changed his old ways.

Dumbledore became more worried. Severus was shocked to see that one day, the old wizard he had known for the better part of his childhood was _really _old. The twinkle in his eyes dimmed, his hands shook. His power was diminishing; Dumbledore even said this to him.

It was the one thing Severus never relayed to the Dark Lord: that Dumbledore was getting weaker. He couldn't bring himself to do it. Dumbledore was the enemy – one of the greatest – but Severus didn't think he could bear it if Dumbledore fell. He even had doubts, sometimes, about whether what he was doing was really right. He wondered what it would be like to truly be free, to put his conscience to rest and not feel like he was strangling himself every time he spoke to Dumbledore.

But by Potter's fifth year, Dumbledore had become more and more concerned about Harry. The boy was all Dumbledore thought and spoke about. Everything Dumbledore asked of Severus had to do with Potter. _Help Harry. Protect Harry. _He stopped asking how Severus was doing, stopped telling him to be careful, stopped asking his opinion. It was only Harry this, Harry that.

It infuriated him, because Dumbledore was doing just what Evans had done – betrayed him. They had both sucked him in, made him feel wanted, made him doubt his ways and his thoughts, only to throw him away in favor of a Potter.

So when Narcissa Malfoy begged him to "carry out the deed that the Dark Lord has ordered Draco perform," he agreed without a second thought.

And he did it.

Dumbledore was dead, and Severus Snape was now the most infamous murderer and traitor in history.

The old man haunted his dreams. He told no one – it was nothing anyone needed to know. By day, he spread the Dark Lord's influence, and by night, he visited the Astronomy Tower. He burst into the room the headmaster had lain weakened and pleading in, and by the words of the Vow, he killed Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore's last words to him had been a plea. A plea to protect Harry. Again, it was all about Harry.

For his loyalties, Severus had been awarded the highest of honors – the position of Lord Voldemort's right hand man. He returned to work; returned to carrying out the Dark Lord's orders and returned to killing.

It didn't feel the same.

There was no pleasure, no joy in murder. The faces of his victims plagued his sleep. Actions he had never questioned before were now riddled with doubt. He constantly asked himself, _What would Dumbledore tell me to do?_

But he couldn't turn back. Where would he go? He had no place in the world except as a Death Eater, where he was accepted for who he was. But if he stayed here, he would end up revealing himself. There would be an order he couldn't follow, a death he couldn't accept. He would drown.

He would drown in his own guilt. He had promised – _promised _Dumbledore – that he would watch over Harry. _I trust you, Severus. I have faith in you._

Draco had been right.

Death Eaters didn't cast Patronuses.

* * *

Up Next: There is more driving Harry than mere revenge, and the Hogwarts staff loses a member and gets some shocking information. 

Please review?


	17. Impossible Feat

All right. First off, sorry. We know we said we'd quit if we didn't update within a week, but whatever. We got this done and we decided to post it. Continuing on this tragic vein (?) - we probably won't continue/finish this story unless we get literally _loads_ of feedback, since we're not going to work our arses off trying to write ten chapters in a month if no one's going to read them. Anyway...excuse the quality of this chapter and any possible future chapters, since we sort of told our beta we'd stop writing and it would be crazy trying to make her edit any more. :)

* * *

**Impossible Feat – **_"Those who say it cannot be done should not interrupt those doing it."_

Ginny rolled her eyes. Harry had only been up for three days and he was already engaging in heated disputes.

She and Ron sat on the couch in the common room, watching as he and Hermione argued back and forth.

"We can't waste _time, _Hermione," Harry said angrily, waving a piece of parchment in Hermione's face – it was the list of self-updating notes on Horcruxes that the Order had given to him.

"But we can't risk your health," Hermione said stubbornly, her arms folded across her chest. "You were out like a drunk gnome on Christmas Eve for an entire week, and you just woke up three days ago. You're not _ready _for this."

"But we _know _where it is!" Harry cried, jabbing his finger at the last two lines on the parchment.

_We've found the location of Hufflepuff's Cup. It was buried in the tomb of Adrian Ghale near the Helgan Cathedral in Durham in the early 1900s – Adrian Ghale was Hufflepuff's last descendant._

"That's too easy," Hermione said, shaking her head. "And besides, why would the Dark Dork hide his Horcrux in the tomb of Hufflepuff's heir?"

"Because," Ginny interrupted, "that would give it far better protection."

Harry and Hermione both turned to stare at her.

Ginny shrugged. "Think about it. Why would the Dark Dork waste his resources trying to guard his Horcrux when other people can do it for him?"

"There'd be wards on the tomb," Harry said slowly, nodding as he realized what Ginny meant. "Helgan Cathedral. The name probably comes from Helga, and the cathedral is probably dedicated to her family. They'd make sure the tomb of Hufflepuff's last descendant isn't disturbed."

"And what makes you think the people there will let _us _dig it up?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We can explain the situation – "

"We're going to convince them that we need to dig up a grave because a seventh of the Dark Dork's soul is in it?"

"Yes!"

"Wait," Ginny said, holding her hand up to stop Hermione's retort. "Did it say whether Helgan cathedral's run by Muggles or wizards?"

Harry shook his head. "No. But it's probably wizards, since it's named after Hufflepuff."

"Then we _can _tell them," Ginny said, as if it settled the matter. "They're wizards. They'd understand. It's not like we're going to destroy the place or anything."

"I thought you were all for secrecy," Hermione shot at Harry. "Now we're just going to spout off about Horcruxes in front of strangers in Durham?"

"This is the fifth Horcrux, Hermione," Harry said heatedly. "We've already destroyed half of the Dark Dork's soul. It doesn't matter how many people know about them now!"

"What if it's another trap?" Hermione asked. "What if the Order's wrong?"

"What if it isn't?" Harry countered. "What if they're right? You can't have _all_ the facts."

Hermione crossed her arms. "Fine. Let's say the Order's right, and let's say the caretakers of Helgan cathedral believe our story and let us dig up the Cup. There's _still _the problem of you having to destroy it."

"Then I won't!" Harry said exasperatedly. "I'll bring it back here! Look, we should at least _get _it before the Dark Dork finds out we know where it is."

"And what if there's a curse on it, like Ravenclaw's wand?" Hermione pressed. "What if there's a charm that won't let you take it out of Durham? What if the Death Gobblers show up again?"

"Then we'll fight them," Harry said mulishly.

"Fight them?" Hermione snapped. "And have the Order come save us again, at the expense of another – "

She stopped abruptly. Ginny and Ron cringed. They had all sworn not to talk about Hestia's death with Harry, particularly in a way that Harry could interpret as it being his fault.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "This is a _war,_" he said in a low voice. "Fighting a war means taking _risks. _Taking risks means people _die._"

He abruptly stood up, his hand clutching the parchment tightly. Without another word, he strode over to the portrait hole and disappeared.

Ron shook his head after him. "Way to go, Hermione."

Hermione glared him into silence.

Ginny sighed. "Damn."

­––––––

Ginny spent the better part of the afternoon looking for Harry. He never returned to the common room, where Hermione had returned to her schoolwork, or the dormitory. Ginny searched through various empty classrooms and asked several members of the PA that she passed by, but no one had seen any sign of him.

She had just been about to give up when she heard his voice coming from an empty classroom on the fourth floor; he was talking to someone.

"...Kingsley and Tonks..."

"And probably Mad-Eye..."

Ginny approached the door, which stood slightly ajar.

"So Saturday evening..."

"...McGonagall's room..."

Ginny quietly pushed the door open until she could slip in. Harry was sitting at one of the desks with his back to her and his phoenix Patronus conjured before him. He was talking to it, and it replied...in Remus' voice.

"...Aurors will be on backup," Remus' voice was saying.

Harry nodded. "Okay. So eight o'clock."

"Right."

"I'll see you then."

Harry stood up and waved his wand; the phoenix dissipated. Without turning around, he said, "Have you been looking for me?"

Ginny started and looked down at the floor, suddenly embarrassed that she'd been eavesdropping. "Sorry," she said quickly. "I didn't mean to – "

"It's all right," Harry said, turning around and smiling at her. "I was just talking to Remus. I have to tell you, anyway."

"What?"

"We're going," he said quietly. "We're going to find Hufflepuff's Horcrux."

* * *

It felt decidedly strange, Harry thought, to be going on a Horcrux hunt without the secrecy that was usually involved. 

"Everyone ready?" Kingsley asked.

Seven heads nodded in unison.

Kingsley looked around at them – Remus, who stood beside Harry; Tonks, who stood beside Ginny; and Mad-Eye, who stood beside Hermione – and put his hand on Ron's shoulder. "Destination – Helgan Cathedral. Let's go."

Harry gripped his wand tightly. Remus took his hand, and they Disapparated.

––––––

"Man, this is creepy," Ron whispered.

"What did you expect?" Ginny retorted. "It's a graveyard."

Harry was already looking around for Adrian Ghale's tombstone. The others had spread out, checking the names and dates inscribed on the grave markers.

"Here!" Hermione announced a moment later, her wand shining on a large marble headstone. Everyone moved toward her to read the illuminated flowing script:

_Adrian Ghale  
__Founder of Helgan Cathedral  
__1803-1918_

Mad-Eye nodded affirmatively. "That's the one."

Kingsley stepped forward. "His body was actually cremated and the ashes were sealed in a stone casket. They built an underground chamber here where they stored the casket and some of his possessions – including the Cup."

"So we're standing on top of a _chamber?"_ Ron asked, looking down.

"Essentially," Kingsley said. He began tapping the top of the headstone with his wand. "There should be something...ah."

Kingsley seemed to have found some sort of magical trigger; as he pulled his wand away from the bottom left corner of the headstone, a hole about the width of a Firebolt appeared in the ground behind the headstone. It revealed a crumbly set of stairs that led down into the dark.

"Looks dangerous," Kingsley mused. "We need more light."

Everyone muttered, "_Lumos," _and seven lights flared from seven wand tips.

"What're we waiting for?" Harry asked impatiently. "Let's go."

"Tonks, go first," Kingsley instructed. "Mad-Eye and I will stand guard."

"Right you are," Tonks said cheerfully, stepping toward the stairs.

Remus followed immediately after her, a grim look on his face.

"Don't stand around down there," Mad-Eye growled. "Get the Cup and get out."

"Stop being a worrywart," Tonks said cheekily as she began descending. Harry followed Remus with Hermione, Ginny, and Ron behind him.

The air became stuffier and colder the farther they went. There was a strange odor in the air, too; it reminded Harry of mothballs and one of Neville's potions gone wrong.

"This is weird," Ron whispered. "We're going into somebody's _grave. _Isn't this illegal? And I thought this place was guarded."

"It is," Remus said grimly. He and Tonks had stopped at the bottom of the stairs, where there was a sort of antechamber that led to two different passages. Remus and Tonks were pointing their wands straight ahead. Something shimmered in the air as the light passed through it.

"Wards," Hermione said softly.

"How do we get past them?" Ginny asked.

"Here," Harry said, moving past Remus and Tonks. Before anyone could stop him, he made a slashing movement with his wand across his palm. He grimaced as a line of blood appeared.

"Harry, wait – "

Remus grabbed his arm, but Harry had already touched his bloody palm to the shimmering barrier.

There was a flash and a bang. Harry had to shield his eyes.

"What the – "

"It's gone," Harry said simply, jerking his head at the passages. "We should split up."

Ron gaped at him. "How...?"

"What did you just do?" Remus demanded, yanking Harry's hand toward him. He touched the gash with his wand and it instantly closed itself up.

"It had to be activated with blood," Harry said, shrugging. "Thanks."

"How'd you know that?" Tonks asked curiously. "Hmm...it really is gone."

"I've been doing research," Harry said ambiguously. "We're wasting time."

Remus sighed. "Tonks, take Ron and Hermione and go left. Harry, Ginny, and I will go to the right. The main chamber should be in the center, so we should meet up eventually. Come back here if you don't find anything in five minutes."

"Right-o," Tonks said cheerily.

"Eventually," Ron muttered darkly as he followed Hermione into the corridor.

"Let's go," Remus said. He led the way into the dark passage. The lights from their wands bounced across the walls and the ceiling. The sounds of breathing echoed in the enclosed space as they walked on. Harry thought he heard something once or twice, but neither Remus nor Ginny seemed to notice.

The passage began to curve slightly inward. "They must merge again," Remus said, half to himself.

"Then what was the point of having two corridors?" Ginny asked, sounding irritated.

Harry cocked his head. "There were other doors along the wall," he said. "Didn't you see them?"

Remus and Ginny gave him strange looks. "Really?"

"They didn't look like much," Harry shrugged. "Probably extra rooms to hold more things."

"Hey, you three, hurry up!" Ron's voice called from up ahead. "We found the main chamber!"

Harry broke into a jog with Remus and Ginny right beside him. A moment later they saw Tonks, Ron, and Hermione waiting for them at the top of a small flight of stairs.

"There," Ron said, pointing down. There was a large archway at the bottom.

"And there's another ward," Tonks said, her brows furrowed, "but my blood doesn't work."

"It's not the same kind," Harry said, shaking his head. Tonks stepped aside to let him descend and approach the shimmering web within the arch. The others climbed down after him. He slashed his palm with his wand again, but more forcefully. He then shifted his hand so that the blood spurted onto the arch itself.

There was a low rumbling sound as the arch began to glow. Harry took a step back, but there was no bang this time as the ward vanished.

Harry nodded. "Let's go."

He stepped into the dark chamber beyond the arch and shined his light around. There were several sconces along the walls, which he lighted with a flick of his wand. The soft glow they offered illuminated the contents of the room. Directly in front of them was a large stone casket that was engraved with intricate designs, and to either side of it was a pile of glittering jewelry and gold that made Ron suck in his breath.

A tapestry hung on the wall behind the casket, depicting a giant badger on a black and yellow field. A bookshelf stood along the left wall, filled to the top with dusty tomes. The right wall had a door-sized opening in the middle that revealed yet another set of stairs, this time leading back up.

Harry began sifting through the piles of gold. The others started to join him when a loud, booming voice filled the chamber.

_::Death Eaters!::_

The exclamation was immediately followed by an explosion that nearly knocked everyone off their feet.

"Harry!" Remus said, whirling around.

"It's not here!" Harry growled, looking around wildly. He was throwing jewelry and gems aside in his frantic search.

"Get out!" Remus roared, dashing out of the chamber and up the stairs. "Go out the other way!"

There were shouts from above and Tonks rushed out after Remus. Harry grabbed Ron's arm and pulled him along toward the other exit. Hermione and Ginny followed on his heels as they scrambled up the stairs. These seemed to lead all the way out to the cemetery; Harry could soon see a circle of light above.

A second explosion from below made him nearly lose his balance. Hermione screamed. Harry gritted his teeth and sprinted up the last few steps to the top. Once his feet touched level ground he spun around to help the others when another explosion rocked the crypt.

Ron lost his footing as the stair below him crumbled. Harry lunged for his hand, but Ron was already sliding back down.

"Harry!"

"Ron!"

"Go, Harry!" he heard Ginny shout. "We've got – _Stupefy! _We'll hold them off! Find the Cup!"

"Damn!" Harry yelled, slamming his fist into the ground. He couldn't see anything even with his wand. "Damn!"

_There's no choice._

He leapt to his feet and looked around. He was shocked to find that the doors to an enormous cathedral stood before him. They stood slightly ajar, and a bright swathe of light spilled out through the cracks.

_Whoever's inside would know where the Cup went,_ Harry thought. He dashed up the steps and yanked the doors open. He raced through the vast antechamber and into a colossal hall. Magnificent chandeliers hung from the ceiling, illuminating the area with a soft glow. Hundreds of pews lined the right and left sides. Statues, busts, and carvings decorated the walls.

Two men stood beside the altar, discussing something. They were dressed in the simple clothing of priests –Muggle priests. And there, on the altar…Hufflepuff's Cup.

Without thinking, Harry sprinted down the length of the cathedral toward it.

"Hey! What are you doing?" one of the priests called out.

Harry leapt up the steps, but the second priest grabbed the Cup and cradled it in the crook of his arm.

"Who are you?" he demanded. "What do you want?"

"Cup," Harry panted. "I need the Cup!"

"This cup?" the first priest asked incredulously. "Why – "

"There's no time!" Harry shouted, lunging forward. The second priest moved back, an alarmed expression on his face. "I need it!"

"This is a house of God, son," the first priest said sternly. "There will be no – "

"That doesn't matter!" Harry bellowed, brandishing his wand at them. "We're going to die! Just give me the Cup!"

"I cannot, sir," the priest said indignantly. "Under strict – "

There was a loud _pop _and Kingsley Apparated between the two priests.

_"Soporificus!"_

Harry snatched the Cup out of the second priest's hands as Kingsley caught the two priests.

"Where are the others?" Harry demanded, glancing toward the door.

"They were tackling the rest of the Death Gobblers," Kingsley said, lowering the slumbering priests to the floor. "They don't know – "

The popping that announced the arrival of eight masked Death Gobblers echoed thunderously in the hall.

" – that you're here," Kingsley finished with a sigh. "Shit."

Before the Death Gobblers could move, Remus, Mad-Eye, Ron, and Ginny Apparated into their midst. Fighting erupted almost instantaneously. Two Death Gobblers broke off from the group and converged on Harry and Kingsley.

"Go back!" Kingsley instructed, shoving Harry out of the way as he sent two Stunners at the oncoming Death Gobblers.

"Yeah right," Harry retorted. "And leave the rest of you here? _Expelliarmus!"_

Harry's spell hit his mark, and his target screamed and crashed into the wall.

"No! The Cup is more important!" Kingsley growled. _"Stupefy!"_

"_Protego!" _Harry shouted. The shield flew up around them just in time to deflect a Killing Curse.

"Damn, Harry, would you just listen?" Kingsley snapped.

"You take it, then!" Harry said angrily, thrusting the Cup into Kingsley's hands. "I'm not leaving them!"

––––––

"Damn stubborn fool!" Ginny heard Kingsley yell. She looked up fleetingly to see Harry sprinting down from the altar and into the fray.

"Watch out!"

Ron's warning came just in time; Ginny dove to the ground as a Stunner rocketed over her head. She raised her own wand and retaliated with a Full-Body Bind. An orange jet of light suddenly shot toward her from the left. There was no time to raise a shield; she rolled away, but not fast enough. The spell grazed her cheek and her forehead, opening cuts on both. Ginny bit her tongue to keep from crying out loud.

"_Furnunculus!" _Ron shouted from above her. _"Expelliarmus! Impedi – _argh!"

Ron staggered backward into a pew, clutching his left arm. A long gash ran down its length, steadily staining the sleeve of his shirt with blood. Ignoring her own blood streaming down her face, Ginny scrambled to her feet and went to his side.

"Ginny!" he grimaced. "Your face – "

"I'm fine," Ginny said tersely. "How's your arm? _Protego!"_

"Not deep," Ron said, shaking his head. "Hurts like hell."

"I can't – "

"Ginny! Ron!"

Harry suddenly appeared before them. Blood spattered the front of his shirt, but he looked uninjured. He stared at Ron's arm.

"Not deep," Ginny informed him. "Can you do something? I'll cover."

Harry nodded and Ron held out his arm. Out the corner of her eye, Ginny watched Harry tap the gash with his wand. The wound slowly closed up.

"Thanks, mate," Ron said, rubbing a hand down his healed arm.

Harry nodded cursorily as he looked around. Two Death Gobblers lay on the floor nearby, with two more beside the altar. Mad-Eye and Kingsley were engaged with another pair across the hall while Remus dueled a third.

"There were eight," Harry said, his eyes narrowed.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

"Duck!" Harry bellowed, tackling Ron into the ground. Ginny dove for cover under the pew and the Killing Curse punched into the polished stone floor not three feet away.

"_Impedimenta!" _Harry shouted, his wand pointing toward a Death Gobbler fleeing down the aisle. _"Incarcerous!" _

Ropes flew out of Harry's wand and whipped through the air to bind themselves around the Death Gobbler, who went crashing to the floor.

"_Accio wand!" _Harry added, and the Death Gobbler's wand zoomed into his outstretched hand. _"Incendio!"_

The wand was reduced to ashes in Harry's hand. He let them fall to the ground.

"Harry!" Kingsley shouted. "Catch!"

Kingsley pulled his arm back and threw Hufflepuff's Cup into the air.

"_Accio Cup!" _Harry shouted, just as another Death Gobbler yelled the same thing. The Cup was suspended in the air, caught between the pull of both spells.

Ginny raised her wand. _"Accio Cup!"_

The force of her spell and Harry's combined overpowered the Death Gobbler's. The Cup shot down through the air and into Harry's hands.

"Where are Tonks and Hermione?" Harry demanded as he waved his wand over the Cup. It shimmered for a moment, then vanished.

Ron gaped. "What – "

"They went to call the rest of the Order," Ginny said quickly, thinking it best not to question Harry's skills at this point. He had somehow become much more powerful in the course of several weeks than most full-grown wizards did in their lifetime.

There was a shout from across the hall; the three of them looked up to see Mad-Eye fall backward, his good leg skewed at an awkward angle. One of the Death Gobblers kicked Mad-Eye in the ribs and ran toward Harry, Ginny, and Ron while the other two kept Kingsley busy.

The Death Gobbler pointed his wand at Ginny with a wicked grin, apparently marking her as the easiest target. _"Imperio!"_

Harry grabbed Ginny's arm, tugging her out of the way and taking the spell for himself.

Ginny gasped before remembering that Harry was one of the few that could resist the Imperius Curse. Sure enough, Harry merely shook his head roughly before firing off a curse of his own. He and the Death Gobbler locked themselves in a fierce duel as Ginny and Ron watched, mouths hanging open.

"Hit his legs," Ron said suddenly to Ginny. "Trip him up or something."

"Help Kingsley!" Harry shouted as he deflected a jet of purple light. It careened off into the ceiling, narrowly missing a chandelier.

"I'll go," Ron said grimly.

Ginny nodded. She aimed for the Death Gobbler's back as Ron dashed off. _Don't let me hit Harry. Don't let me hit Harry. "Tarantallegra!"_

As if he'd known what she was going to do, Harry rolled out of the way and back up to his feet as the spell hit the Death Gobbler. _"Petrificus Totalus!" _he said, and the Death Gobbler, who had lost his balance, crashed to the ground like a stiff board.

Before Ginny could even breathe a sigh of relief, there were more popping sounds. Tonks and Hermione appeared almost simultaneously with a dozen more Death Gobblers.

"Where do they all _come _from?" Harry growled.

"Harry!" Hermione said as she ran over to them, sounding close to tears.

"Where are the others?" Harry demanded. He fired off spells into the melee as he listened.

"We couldn't get back to McGonagall's office!" Hermione said, nearly hysterical. "It must have been sealed again, the wards – Tonks couldn't – "

Harry swore.

Three of the closest Death Gobblers left the main group and started toward them.

"Come quietly, now," one of them said, "and no one will get hurt."

Harry snorted. "Someone _will _get hurt. But it won't be us."

He suddenly spun around and flicked his wand at Ginny and Hermione. He then leapt over a pew to avoid the curses the Death Gobblers had thrown at him. Ginny looked down, wondering what Harry had done to her – and found that she was invisible.

"Where'd they go?" one of the Death Gobblers shouted.

"Here!" Ginny heard Hermione's voice from somewhere off to the left. A jet of red light burst seemingly from thin air and caught the Death Gobbler in the chest.

"_Rictusempra!" _Ginny shouted, and the second Death Gobbler fell to the ground, laughing uproariously and clutching his sides.

The last Death Gobbler cursed. _"Finite incantatem!" _he cried.

The second Death Gobbler stopped laughing, and Ginny found that she was visible again.

"_Expelliarmus!" _the third Death Gobbler shouted at Harry. He had caught Harry off-guard; his wand suddenly flew out of his hand.

"_Tarantallegra!" _Ginny yelled at the Death Gobbler as Harry vaulted over a pew to retrieve his wand.

The Death Gobbler Hermione had hit was back on his feet. Just as Harry went to snatch his wand off the floor, the Death Gobbler kicked it away with his foot and pointed his own wand at Harry.

"_Incarcerous!" _Harry bellowed.

To Ginny's utter astonishment, ropes came flying out of Harry's wand. They bound and gagged the astounded Death Gobbler, who toppled forward.

"_Accio wand!" _Ginny said, pointing at Harry's wand. She then tossed it to Harry, who caught it and grinned his thanks.

"_Crucio!" _the second Death Gobbler shouted.

Ginny whirled around to see Hermione fall to the ground, shrieking as if she were being torn apart.

A look of pure rage passed across Harry's face. He leapt at the Death Gobbler and slugged the masked man in the head. _"Incendio!"_

The fallen Death Gobbler's wand burst into flame.

Before Ginny could go to Hermione, a terrible pain hit her in the back of the head. She screamed and dropped to her knees; it felt like her skull had been sliced in half and lit on fire. She vaguely heard someone call her name, dimly saw a blinding flash of light...

She lay on the ground, face-down, and tasted blood. The pain had spread all the way down her back, but it no longer felt unbearable. Just burning, piercing, throbbing dully...

She watched through her blurring vision as someone crawled toward Hermione's limp body. He collapsed halfway there, his outstretched hand barely touching the sleeve of her robes. Ginny let her eyes slide shut as she listened to the sound of ragged breathing.

_Can't die..._

_Not now..._

She struggled to keep breathing.

_Can't..._

_Die..._

She suddenly felt someone take her hand, but she couldn't even find the will to open her eyes. The last thing she felt was a cool hand pressed to her forehead...

* * *

Up Next: Hidden powers? Another Dumbledore? The next Merlin? Whatever he has and whatever he is, in the end, the Chosen is just human. 

Note: We couldn't include everything we wanted to in this chapter, so the second part will probably just be an extra fill between 16 and 17; or we'll just shift the other chapters. And in case we don't write anymore... We'd just like to say thanks to all of you who stuck with this story. We really appreciated the reviews and comments. Check our profile later on for more stories! ;)


	18. Impossible Feat :cont:

Thanks for all the reviews, folks. Again, please excuse any typos and stuff...

* * *

**Impossible Feat (cont.)**

Neville had been about to go up to the dormitory room when the first explosion rocked the castle.

He dropped his bag and grabbed the banister to keep from falling.

"What the – "

Seamus and Dean appeared at the top of the stairs. "Neville!"

"What just – "

There was a second explosion and Seamus almost toppled down the stairs.

"Bloody Merlin!"

"We're being attacked!" someone screamed. Nearly all the Gryffindors had been in their dormitories; they now came streaming down the stairs and into the common room. Dean, Seamus, Lavender, and Parvati converged around Neville.

"Hey!" Dean roared over the din. "Stay calm! Be quiet!"

"Where's Harry?" Lavender asked nervously, scanning the common room. "Hermione wasn't in the dormitory."

"Ron wasn't either," Seamus said, shaking his head. "You don't think – "

A third explosion cut him off. There were more screams.

Nearly Headless Nick suddenly burst into the room through the wall, waving his arms frantically. "All students stay in the common room!" he shouted, his head wobbling precariously on his neck. "Prefects and Heads to the Headmistress' office! Quickly! Hurry!" Finishing his announcement, he disappeared back through the wall.

There was uproar in the common room again.

"Stay here? We can't stay here!"

"It's the safest – "

"We're being _attacked!"_

"I don't want to die!"

Some of the younger kids started crying.

"Neville!"

Neville spun around to see Colin scramble in through the portrait hole with his brother right on his heels.

"Colin!" Neville said.

"Neville, here's Hermione's coin!" Colin panted, holding out the fake Galleon Hermione used to inform the PA of meetings. "The ghosts are saying that there are Death Gobblers outside!" he whispered. "What do we do?"

"Why are you asking me?" Neville asked bewilderedly. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Harry said you'd know," Colin said worriedly. "He said to go to you if anything happened."

"So he's really not here?" Dean asked in dismay.

"Ginny's not here either," Demelza said grimly, joining the group.

"They must have gone to find a Horcrux," Seamus groaned. "Great timing."

Neville took Hermione's coin and clenched his fist around it. "We need to call the PA."

Colin turned white. "But Neville – "

"We should meet in the Great Hall."

"Neville, we can't!" Parvati said in a high voice. "We're not ready!"

"We have to!" Neville said urgently. "This is what we've been working for, isn't it? It's what Harry would do."

Seamus and Dean were the first to nod. "Right," Dean said. "He said we have to protect Hogwarts."

"I'm in," Lavender said. Although her hands were shaking, her gaze was determined.

"So am I," Parvati said.

Demelza and Colin nodded their agreements.

"Good," Neville said. "Then we'll tell everyone" – he tapped Hermione's coin with his wand, nodding in satisfaction as it glowed and reconfigured its numbers – "to meet in the Great Hall."

Demelza's eyes were wide. "Neville – you know how to do the Protean Charm?"

"What?" Neville looked down at the coin. "Oh, um…I guess."

"That's – "

Another forceful explosion shook the floor.

"Never mind that," Dean said grimly. "Someone has to go to Professor McGonagall's office. Both of our prefects aren't here."

"That's right," Lavender groaned. "Ron and Hermione – "

"Dean, Seamus, and I will go," Neville said. "All the other prefects are in the PA too, aren't they? We'll figure out things from there."

Everyone nodded.

"But what about people who aren't in the PA?" Colin asked worriedly.

Neville sighed. "We'll just have to hope that they stay where they are. I'm sure they'll be safe in the common rooms."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Seamus said impatiently. "Let's go!"

"Good luck," Parvati called as the three boys scrambled out of the portrait hole.

–––––––

When they arrived in front of Professor McGonagall's office, the gargoyle guarding the entrance immediately sprang aside. Neville, Dean, and Seamus glanced at each other before rushing up the spiral staircase. They burst through the door to find that most of the Hogwarts staff and the other six prefects had already gathered inside.

Professor Sprout stood up as they stood panting in the doorway. "What are you three doing here?" she asked incredulously.

"Our prefects aren't here," Neville said, looking to Professor McGonagall. The thin line of her mouth told him she knew. "So we came instead."

Blaise and Daphne, the two Slytherin prefects, sidled up to them as they entered the room. Blaise showed Neville his glowing coin.

"We got it," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth. "We sent everyone to the Great Hall. So did Ernie and Anthony."

Neville nodded.

"Well, now that you're all here…" Professor McGonagall rose from her chair and looked around at the nine students. "I'm sure you have all deduced what is happening. The school is under attack."

No one moved. Neville clenched his fists.

"We've sent messages to the Ministry," Professor McGonagall continued. "They should be sending Aurors within the hour."

"Within the _hour?" _Seamus exclaimed. "They'll be too late!"

"What more do you expect, Mr. Finnegan?" Professor McGonagall said sharply. "Hogwarts can stand until then. It's protected by more than wards. There are multiple layers of spells that will be triggered by intruders. Even if any of the Death Eaters managed to penetrate these spells, it will only be a handful."

"Yes, but – "

Hagrid's booming voice filled the office, cutting Seamus off.

_::They're here!::_

"Hagrid!" Neville shouted, leaping to his feet.

Professor Sprout hurried over to the window. When she came back, her face was white.

"Five of them are inside the grounds," she whispered. "They're attacking Hagrid's hut!"

Neville, Dean, and Seamus rushed to the window. Far below, they saw Hagrid's door blast open. Hagrid and Fang charged out toward the five Death Eaters. There were flashes of light and loud bangs. Hagrid lifted one of the Death Eaters off his feet and threw him into another.

"There are more getting through!" Dean cried, pointing down. Three more Death Eaters burst out from the Forbidden Forest and ran toward Hagrid.

"We have to help him!" Neville said, whipping around to face the teachers.

"Mr. Longbottom, are you _mad?_" Professor Sprout demanded.

"He's right," Dean said forcefully. "We can't let him fight them by himself!"

"You'll get yourselves killed!" Professor McGonagall thundered.

"We'll go," Professor Drake and Professor Blackthorn said, standing up together. "We can hold them off until the Aurors arrive."

"We're going, too," Ernie said adamantly, stepping forward. "We can help." The other prefects nodded their agreement.

"I forbid it," Professor McGonagall said coldly, her eyes flashing. "I will not have – "

"It's what Harry would do," Neville interrupted, gripping his wand tightly. "You can expel us if you want, but you can't stop us. This is _our _school. We're going to fight."

Before Professor McGonagall could say anything else, Neville led the others out of the office and toward the Great Hall. He heard Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout shouting after them, but it only made him run faster.

"We'll split up," Neville said as he sped down the steps. "Get everyone from Harry's group. I'll take the seventh and sixth years that are willing to fight directly. Dean, you and Seamus take the rest around into the Forbidden Forest. Stay behind the trees and have half of them attack from there. The other half can form shields so that they don't get hit."

"Even the younger ones?" Seamus asked.

Neville shook his head. "No second years. And don't force anyone to come. If they're scared, let them stay."

Dean and Seamus nodded as they sprinted down the last set of stairs to the Great Hall. Luna, Lavender, Parvati, and Colin had been waiting outside; they hastily stood up and rushed up to meet them.

"What's going on?" Colin asked.

"Death Gobblers are attacking Hagrid's hut," Neville said quickly. "I need any willing seventh and sixth years that were in Harry's group to come with me to fight them off. The others from Harry's group should follow Dean and Seamus. Ernie, you and Luna tell John to get everyone else to the Room of Requirement. It might help to find Madam Pomfrey and have some potions on hand. Just in case."

Luna, Lavender, Parvati, Colin, and Ernie nodded, and they all hurried into the Great Hall. The entire PA seemed to have been waiting for them; as soon as the doors opened every last person rose to their feet and crowded around.

Neville took a deep breath. "Hagrid's being attacked even as we speak. There are about eight Death Gobblers outside trying to attack Hogwarts. Any willing seventh or sixth years that were in Harry's group can come with me to fight."

"But you're in charge of Healing!" someone said.

Neville nodded. "I know. But I've got to do this for Harry. I know it's a lot to ask for," he added. "But all of you know what you're capable of. Harry told us to protect Hogwarts, and this is our chance to do it."

"We're in," Colin and Demelza said immediately.

"Same here," Blaise said.

"You're not leaving us behind," said the two other Slytherin seventh years.

"Us too."

"And me."

A total of ten people stepped up to join Neville.

"All right," he said. "The rest of you follow Dean and Seamus. They'll tell you what to do."

Neville turned around and led his group out of the Great Hall. His heart was thundering wildly, and he gripped his wand tighter for reassurance.

_It's the right thing._

_For Hogwarts._

"Okay," Neville said as he approached the front doors. "The other group will be in the Forbidden Forest. They're going to try to pick off the Death Gobblers from there. Our main goal is to distract the Death Gobblers so they don't find out where the others are hiding."

Everyone nodded in understanding.

_They're listening to me. I'm…leading them._

_Into what?_

Neville shook his head. "Remember what we learned," he said. "Harry's counting on us. Don't try anything reckless and try to help each other out. We don't want anyone to get hurt."

"Don't worry, Neville," Demelza grinned. "We'll show them what Hogwarts students are made of."

"Right," Neville said. He managed to smile back at her before turning to push the doors open. Flashes and bangs were still erupting from Hagrid's hut.

"Let's go!" Neville said, motioning for the others to follow him. He sprinted out toward Hagrid and the nearest Death Gobbler.

_Mum…_

_Dad…_

_This is for you._

"_Expelliarmus!" _he roared, jabbing his wand at a Death Gobbler that had stumbled away from Hagrid's swinging fists. His spell hit the masked man in the back and sent him flying into the forest. There was, however, no time to celebrate; the Death Gobbler's fall only alerted his companions to Neville's presence.

"You little – " one of them growled. _"Avada Kedavra!"_

"Move!" someone howled, bowling into him. Neville gasped as he and his rescuer tumbled out of the way. The Killing Curse harmlessly hit the earth, leaving a smoldering circle of burnt grass.

Neville looked up at his rescuer as he pulled him to his feet. It was Professor Blackthorn.

"If you insist on doing this," Professor Blackthorn warned as he turned away, "do it right."

_Do it right._

"Neville, to your left!" Colin's voice shouted. Neville barely raised a shield in time to deflect a Stunner.

"_Petrificus Totalus!" _he shouted in retaliation. Without waiting to see if he had hit his mark, he dashed to where Demelza and Susan were battling a tall, burly Death Gobbler beside Hagrid's hut.

Susan suddenly fell as the Death Gobbler slashed his wand at her; Demelza yelled as she threw a shield around both of them.

"_Stupefy!" _Neville shouted.

The Death Gobbler whipped around and blocked Neville's spell. _"Avada Ked – "_

"_Rictusempra!" _Susan shouted from the ground.

The Death Gobbler fell to the ground, laughing hysterically.

"_Stupefy!" _Neville and Demelza said simultaneously.

Neville ran past the frozen Death Gobbler to where Susan knelt beside Hagrid's pumpkin patch, holding her side.

"Are you all right?" Neville asked worriedly. "Here – _Tergeo!"_

"Thanks," Susan gasped. "I-It's just a small cut. I'll be fine."

"Stay here," Neville told Demelza. "Try and get her back up to the castle if you can."

Demelza nodded as Neville turned back to the fray. Hagrid was in the thick of it, bellowing in rage and brandishing his umbrella at the surrounding Death Gobblers. Professor Blackthorn and Professor Drake were engaged with two others by the forest, and Kevin Entwhistle, Aaron Levy, and Will Laurence were keeping another one busy.

Blaise and Theodore Nott were trying to help up a fallen Tracey Davis when three more Death Gobblers burst onto the scene.

"Blaise!" Neville called. "Watch out!"

Someone suddenly staggered into him, cursing and flailing his arms.

"What – "

Before Neville could react, a pair of hands was wrapped around his throat. "You little weasel!" a voice hissed in his ear. "Die!"

Neville clawed at the throttling hands, his wand forgotten. His vision was already clouding; he choked and spluttered as the hands squeezed tighter.

"_GET OFF HIM!"_

Neville gasped and fell to his knees as the hands suddenly released him. He looked up to see Hagrid lift his assailant into the air and toss him away like a rag doll.

"Neville – "

"Behind you!" Neville shouted, staring in horror at the three wands pointed at Hagrid's back. "Hagrid, look – "

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

Time slowed. Neville felt his body go numb as he watched three jets of green light blossom from the Death Gobblers' wands. The spells soared through the air, illuminating the scene all too clearly. Hagrid turned around, his umbrella half-raised –

Time crashed back to normal as the spells slammed into Hagrid's chest.

Tears stung Neville's eyes as he leapt to his feet.

_Harry said you'd know. He said to go to you if anything happened._

_If anything happened._

_Anything_

Neville felt more than heard the scream that was ripped from his throat.

_HAGRID, NO!_

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Haha...sorry if that was short. And abrupt. We're working on the next chapter as fast as we can. Meanwhile, you can leave a word or two... :) 


	19. Faith and Belief

Thanks to those who reviewed, and bugger to those who didn't.

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**Faith and Belief** – _"They're dying for what they believe in. And at the moment, that happens to be you."_

"…The Aurors arrived right after," Drake said. "They took all the Death Eaters back to the Ministry."

Kingsley nodded slowly. They were sitting outside the Hospital Wing, still waiting to hear about Harry, Ginny, and Hermione. Beside him, Tonks pulled her knees up to her chest and let out a shaky sigh.

"But what about Harry?" Drake asked after a while. "What happened to all of you?"

Kingsley shook his head. "Death Eaters. Caught us in Helgan Cathedral while we were going after Hufflepuff's Cup. I'm not sure what happened to Harry and Ginny, but Hermione was hit with a Cruciatus Curse."

Drake winced. "Why didn't you call us?"

"We tried," Tonks murmured. "Hermione and I tried to come back, but the wards had been resealed."

Drake groaned. "Must have been after the attack started."

"Either way," Kingsley said grimly, "it was for the better. There would have been more casualties here if you and Blackthorn had left."

Drake bowed his head. "All the students are safe. Susan Bones has a gash in her side and Tracey Davis broke his leg, but it's nothing Madam Pomfrey couldn't fix up."

"But why?" Tonks asked. "They should have been no match for Death Eaters – and why were they out there in the first place?"

Drake shrugged. "The Herbology boy – Neville Longbottom – seems that he was in charge. He led nine other students out while two other Gryffindors took a dozen more into the Forbidden Forest. It wasn't a bad plan, actually."

"Neville Longbottom?" Tonks said incredulously.

Drake sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. "My sentiments exactly."

The three of them were silent for a moment. Kingsley closed his eyes. Madam Pomfrey had cursorily fixed up the gashes in his arm, but they still throbbed. Tonks' breathing still seemed too shallow; she had taken several spells to the chest but had refused to go to St. Mungo's. Mad-Eye, however, had been moved directly there since he hadn't been conscious to protest it.

"About Harry," Drake said suddenly. Kingsley and Tonks opened their eyes to look at him. "Is it true that he…Apparated here?"

Kingsley and Tonks glanced at each other. "We can't say for sure," Kingsley said slowly. "Although that appears to be the case."

Drake whistled. "And I heard Dumbledore was the only person who could ever do that."

Tonks shrugged. "Harry's been doing a lot of things we haven't expected."

Drake nodded his agreement. "By the way, Minerva found Hufflepuff's Cup on her desk. I suppose that was Harry, too?"

"Must've been," Kingsley sighed.

"There was something else, too," Tonks said quietly. "Back in the cathedral. I don't know if you noticed, Kingsley, but Harry used a spell with his wand ten feet away from him. And it worked."

Kingsley let out a long breath. He stared down at the ground. "Bloody Merlin. It's times like these that I wish Dumbledore was still here."

"Don't we all?" Drake said softly.

"You know," Kingsley said suddenly, "Dumbledore did say something about that. Harry's abilities, I mean. Apparently, since Harry grew up with Muggles, he knows nearly nothing about the laws of magic. He has no idea about what you can or can't do. If he wants to do something – if he _believes _he can do something – or if someone he trusts tells him he can do something, he takes them at their word and makes it happen."

Tonks furrowed her eyebrows. "Then wouldn't that mean _every _Muggle-born kid would be capable of that?"

"Well, no," Kingsley said. "It's that coupled with the fact that Harry is…Harry."

"Or that he's a Horcrux," Tonks said darkly.

Kingsley shot her a warning glance. "We don't know that."

"But what are we going to tell him next?" Tonks demanded. "Hufflepuff's Cup is the fifth Horcrux. There's only one left."

Kingsley frowned down at the floor, feeling Tonks' and Drake's questioning gazes burn into him. "We'll discuss that...when we get there."

* * *

The PA had a small celebration in the Room of Requirement the day after Harry, Ginny, and Hermione were discharged. There were several bottles of butterbeer and firewhiskey, along with a giant bag of sweets someone had acquired from the kitchens. Drinks were shared and backs were slapped as people went around congratulating each other. 

But to Harry, it all seemed somewhat somber. He didn't mind celebrating – he encouraged it, in fact. The PA had deserved it, anyway, especially Neville. Harry had apparently done well in entrusting the PA to him.

"More butterbeer?" Ginny asked from beside him. They were sitting on cushions beneath a windowsill, their fingers entwined. Hermione and Ron sat on Harry's other side.

Harry shook his head, smiling down at her. "No thanks."

Ginny sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. "Amazing, isn't it? How well they all did."

"Yeah," Harry said.

"All thanks to you," Ginny grinned.

Harry smiled faintly. "I guess."

Ginny sighed again, but said nothing else. He could feel questions burning within her, but they both knew there would be no point in asking them. She had already gotten whatever answers were available – he'd heard her talking with Remus the night before they'd been discharged.

"_He Apparated into Hogwarts! I thought it was supposed to be impossible!"_

"_Impossible is a very strong word… More like…extremely difficult."_

"…_And Harry did it?"_

"_So it seems."_

"_Could Dumbledore?"_

"_Yes. He was the only one."_

"_Until now?"_

"_Until now."_

"_And…when we were there, in the cathedral… A Death Gobbler kicked his wand away, but he still did magic. Without his wand. He just shouted the spell and ropes came flying out."_

"_Again, it's not impossible. That's one of the most advanced methods of spellcasting. Strictly speaking, magic doesn't require spells or wands. Those things just help to channel magical energy, and we use them because it's more efficient. That's why nonverbal spells are taught here."_

Harry couldn't have given her a better explanation than that – or any explanation at all, really. Things…just happened. He didn't feel any different, and there weren't any outwards signs that would have indicated that something had changed. But he could suddenly do things he hadn't even been aware were possible.

"Harry?" someone said tentatively.

He, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione looked up. Blaise, Neville, and Aaron Levy had approached them. All three of them hung their heads and stared at the ground.

"We, um, we thought you should know," Neville mumbled. "Hagrid – Hagrid's gone."

* * *

Harry stared at the ceiling. 

He felt restless. Sleep eluded him. It was five in the morning and he hadn't even been able to close his eyes.

_Hagrid's gone._

_How?_

_He was – he was really brave. Right in the center of everything. But there were just too many of them. He had his back turned, and…_

…_Why?_

It didn't make sense. Hagrid couldn't be gone. Sirius, maybe, and Dumbledore and Hestia. They had all just come and gone. They had all been in the forefront, repeatedly risking their necks in this damn war. But Hagrid was just…_there. _He was supposed to be _there, _all the time, whenever you needed him.

So how the hell could he be gone?

_They…they buried him the day after. Professor Blackthorn…Professor Blackthorn said that was how Hagrid would have wanted to go. In battle. Like a fighter._

And how would Blackthorn know that? Some bloody professor who'd been here for less than a year – how would he know what Hagrid had wanted?

He cared about wild beasts with twenty sets of venomous teeth and stingers longer than a man's arm. He liked baking rock cakes and telling stories to students and trying to smuggle illegal dragons. He just wanted to live in his hut with Fang and his pumpkin patch, greeting new first years and decorating the Great Hall for feasts.

What the _hell _did Blackthorn know?

Who was going to take care of Fang now? What would they do with the hut and the pumpkin patch? Who would cut down Christmas trees and feed the thestrals? Who would lead the first years across the lake at the start of term?

Some stiff, gray-haired woman wasn't going to replace him. _No one _could replace him.

Harry blew out his cheeks. He reached for his glasses, put them on, and quietly slipped out of bed. He grabbed his wand and his Invisibility Cloak on his way out of the dormitory.

He shuffled out of the common room and down the various corridors and stairs to the ground floor. Without a sound, he pulled open the front doors and slipped outside to the grounds. He made his way toward Hagrid's hut like a ghost, feeling almost weightless under his cloak.

The door swung open easily. Harry hesitated on the threshold. It was just so…_empty _inside, so quiet…

There was a soft whine and the padding of feet. Fang appeared before him, his tail wagging slowly as he regarded Harry with large, moist eyes.

"Hey, Fang," Harry said quietly, stepping into the hut. He closed the door behind him.

Fang approached him and put his head against Harry's leg, still staring up at him with those big eyes.

_Hagrid's gone._

Harry looked around the hut. Nothing had changed. The shabby overcoat still hung on its hook, a battered kettle sat on the stove, dented plates occupied the table…

Harry sat down against the wall. Fang gave a soft woof and settled down next to him.

"Do you miss him, Fang?" Harry whispered.

Fang whined again and laid his head on Harry's knee.

Harry nodded. "Me too."

An owl hooted outside. Harry stared at the puddle of moonlight in front of him.

"Idiot," he murmured. "I didn't even get to say goodbye."

There was a sudden movement outside the window. He squinted at the shadow, wondering why his vision was so blurry.

The door creaked open and someone whispered, "Harry?"

Harry stared at the face looking back at him, trying to discern who it was. "Hermione?"

Hermione sighed as she shut the door behind her. "Oh, Harry…" She walked over and sat down on the other side of Fang.

The dog sniffed her pockets and licked her hand, and she stroked his head.

They sat in silence for a long time. Finally, Harry spoke.

"I never knew it would be this hard," he muttered, staring at the ground as he absently scratched Fang's ears. "I _thought _I knew that people would die, but I didn't really believe it. Didn't really accept that it could happen. Not to people I knew. Not to people I loved. First Sirius, then Dumbledore and Hestia…" He took a deep breath and turned to face Hermione. "They're dying for me, right?"

"Oh, Harry…" She was quiet for a moment, and Harry heard his heartbeat echoing in the warm cabin that smelled of dog and earth and Hagrid. He went on scratching Fang's ears absently, staring off into space.

"They're dying for what they believe in," she said finally. "And at the moment, that happens to be you."

* * *

Up Next: Good question. We haven't figured out yet. :P

Please review? Everyone?


	20. Fighting Back

Thanks for all the reviews, folks - keep it coming!

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**Fighting Back** - _"Some of us pay with our lives or a limb or two…some pay by living with pain or regret or shame…and others pay by having to remember the past and move on."_

Kingsley grunted as he caught Harry's limp body before it hit the floor. Where Hufflepuff's Cup had been a moment before, there was only a smoking black circle on the floor of Minerva's office.

"That's going to be hard to get rid of," Tonks observed dryly.

"Is he all right?" Minerva asked, standing up from her desk.

Kingsley looked down at Harry. He was unconscious and pale, but his breathing didn't seem _too _irregular. "Better than the two other times," he said. "But I'll take him to the Hospital Wing anyway."

Once Kingsley had left, Minerva looked around at the three people grimly watching her from the sofa. "Well, this is it."

Mad-Eye, who had just recently been discharged from St. Mungo's, stretched back and winced. He put a hand to his ribs and grimaced. "Sixth Horcrux."

"So what are we going to tell him now?" Tonks asked. "That we can't find it? We don't know what it is?"

"Nobody ever said he needed to destroy all of them," Remus said quietly. "They're just a way to weaken the Dark Dork. Right now, he only has two-sevenths of his soul left. Losing five Horcruxes should have weakened him sufficiently for any one of us to kill him."

"Don't try to avoid it, Remus," Mad-Eye said sharply. "We can all see it now. Harry's power isn't natural. Sure, he's got talent and potential and all that, but that doesn't account for even a tenth of the sudden mastery of magic he's been exhibiting."

"And if he really _is _a Horcrux," Minerva said tightly, "and if we want to destroy the Dark Dork once and for all…"

"No," Remus said in an anguished voice. "No."

"Face it, Remus," Mad-Eye said. "It's the only possible solution."

"How can you be so cruel?" Remus whispered. "You're using him. _We_'re using him. We used him to destroy the Horcruxes and now we're using his own will to destroy the Dark Dork to convince him that he has to _die?"_

"It's not like that, Remus," Tonks said softly, putting a hand on his arm. "You know it's not like that."

"None of us want Harry to die," Minerva said. "That is the _last _thing we want. Isn't the purpose of the Order of the Phoenix to protect Harry? I thought you, Remus, of all people, would know that."

Remus buried his face in his hands. "I can't do it," he whispered. "I can't tell him."

"No one's asking you to," Tonks said gently. "And besides, I think we're losing our faith in Harry again. If we tell him the truth, he'll decide what to do on his own. If it's a choice he's willing to make, then that's that."

"But that's the problem!" Remus said angrily. "That _is _the choice he'll make – he's going to sacrifice himself because he knows that's the only way. He wouldn't be able to live with himself, knowing he houses the last remnant of the Dark Dork in his own soul."

Minerva glared at him. "And do you think that Harry would give up on life so easily?" she demanded. "Do you not think that he would try to find some way out of this? Some way to keep the Horcrux soul dormant, to expel it from his body – anything? He is _seventeen, _Remus. He has a family, a place to call home, a girl he loves, friends so loyal to him they would take his word over the Minister of Magic's – he has too much to live for at the moment."

Everyone was quiet for a moment. Remus could still hear his heart beating wildly in his chest. _I can't lose him. I can't lose Harry. Not now. I promised James, I promised Lily, I promised Sirius…I promised I would take care of him…_

"So are we going to tell him?" Tonks asked quietly.

"We have – "

"No," Remus said. He ignored Mad-Eye's exasperated sigh. "Not yet. We don't have to tell him anything yet. He thinks the last Horcrux is Nagini the snake, but he can't go out to find her because he doesn't know where she is. He'll have to wait for her – and we'll use that time to find out how to get rid of the Horcrux soul."

_Because I promised…that I wouldn't let him die._

* * *

"Let's go outside," Harry said. "I'm tired of being cooped up in here." 

It was Saturday, and Hermione, Ron, and Ginny had all finished dinner early to visit Harry in the Hospital Wing. He had only taken two days to regain consciousness this time, but Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping him for another two. This apparently did not sit well with him.

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked worriedly.

Harry snorted. "If I'm not, who is?"

"He's got a point," Ginny said. "Besides, it's nice out today. I'm sure Madam Pomfrey wouldn't mind. And we can ask Remus to come with us."

"Good idea," Ron said as he stood up. "I'll go find him."

Remus and Tonks seemed to have taken up temporary residence in Hogwarts over the past few days, and Kingsley and Mad-Eye were frequent visitors. All of them had visited Harry the day before, when he'd still been unconscious.

Ron soon reappeared with Remus in tow.

"How do you feel?" he asked Harry.

"Restless," Harry replied.

Remus smiled. "I'll go ask Madam Pomfrey if we can't go out by the lake for a few minutes."

Harry nodded and watched as Remus disappeared into Madam Pomfrey's office. He came back out a minute later with a grin on his face. "Only fifteen minutes, she says."

"Excellent," Harry said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He slipped on his shoes and led the way out of the Hospital Wing. As they neared the marble staircase leading to the front doors, Harry reached out and caught hold of Ginny's hand.

"I've missed you," he said in reply to her questioning look.

Ginny smiled and squeezed his hand. "Me, too."

"Sorry we haven't been able to spend much time together lately," he said.

Ginny shrugged. "It's fine. All part of saving the world."

He smiled ruefully; a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "We'll do loads of stuff when this all over. Just you and me."

She raised an eyebrow. "What kind of stuff?"

He shrugged. "Something. Anything. Everything. Nothing."

She laughed. "I have a life, too, you know. I don't have time for all that. How about we just do everything?"

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Deal."

Harry pushed open the front doors and they stepped outside. It was a cool, pleasant evening; the sun was just about to set and spread yellows and oranges across the horizon. Harry led them to the edge of the lake, where he sat down in the grass and sighed contentedly.

"Peaceful out here," Ron remarked as he sat beside Hermione. Ginny and Remus settled down on either side of Harry.

"Yeah," Harry said.

"That's a beautiful sunset," Hermione said quietly.

Harry smiled. "We haven't done this in a long time."

Ginny wrapped her arms around her knees. "Who'd know there's a war going on?"

"We used to sit out here all the time," Remus said with a reminiscent grin. "James, Sirius, Peter, and me – and Lily, too, eventually."

Harry gazed out across the lake, a faraway look in his eyes.

"One time in sixth year, Lily and her friends played a prank on James," Remus said.

Harry turned toward him. "My mum did?" he asked curiously.

Remus grinned widely. "For once, yeah. She said she'd gotten fed up with him."

"What did she do?" Ron asked.

"It was in the summer, after we'd finished exams. The whole school must have been outside by the lake, and we were sitting right here, like this. Lily was on the other side with her friends, and she conjured an illusion of herself splashing around in the middle of the water so that it looked like she was drowning. James, naturally, jumped in to save her, along with Sirius. But one of Lily's friends had thrown some bait into the lake beforehand, and when James and Sirius leapt in the giant squid came up."

Hermione gasped – Ron, Ginny, and Harry cracked up. Remus' eyes were sparkling. "Everyone knew the giant squid was friendly, but that didn't stop James and Sirius from panicking. They nearly drowned themselves, and when they were able to swim back out they were sent to Dumbledore's office for 'disturbing the peace.' They embellished the story later on, of course, telling everyone how they had felt giant tentacles grab their ankles and how they'd had to fight them off."

"My mum did that?" Harry asked, still laughing.

Remus chuckled. "She wasn't the type to just take things. We fell victim to a fair number of her pranks, too; although it only made James like her more."

"Sounds worthy of Fred and George," Hermione said with a smile.

"James would have loved those two," Remus agreed. "And Lily would have spoiled all four of you rotten."

Harry had fallen silent again.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked softly.

He sighed. "I just can't help thinking what it would have been like if they were still here," he shrugged. "And Sirius."

"And Peter," Remus added.

"Pettigrew?" Ron said incredulously.

"He's not what you think he is," Remus said quietly, shaking his head. "He was just never sure of himself or his place, unlike us. We had a definite bond; we lived for each other and we would die for each other. Peter was just a sort of tag-along – he'd always try to fit in, but it just didn't work. He never had a chance to build up his confidence or his pride. So when he was confronted with a matter of life and death, he wasn't confident enough to give up his life for us."

"But there's always a price," Harry murmured.

Ron gave him a funny look. "What?"

Harry stared at the swirls of color on the surface of the lake. "Everything has a price to it. And for all this magic and death and destruction…there's going to be a big price at the end. That all of us have to pay."

"What are you talking about?" Ron said, bemused. "What kind of price?"

"A price," Harry shrugged. "Some of us pay with our lives or a limb or two…some pay by living with pain or regret or shame…and others pay by having to remember the past and move on."

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other. Ginny looked sideways at Harry. She wasn't sure she really understood what he meant. Sure, she knew people had to give up their lives and their families and things…but what did he mean by "all of us"? Did everyone in the world have to pay for the crimes of a few? And if it was the Dark Dork and the Death Gobblers doing all the killing and destroying, then why did innocent families and students and people like Hestia have to pay a price? It didn't make sense. It wasn't fair.

"We'll see when we get there," Remus said. He sounded so weary all of a sudden that Ginny frowned.

But she'd noticed that he'd said _when. _Not _if. _Which meant that Remus, at least, believed that there would be an end…

"I'll just be happy if we can have moments like this from time to time," Hermione said. "Where we don't have to worry."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "As long – "

Harry suddenly tensed. His wand was suddenly in his hand.

"…Harry?" Ron said nervously.

"Quiet." Harry said it in a low, dangerous voice that left only enough room to obey. Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Remus immediately snapped their mouths shut. They watched Harry's eyes narrow to slits as he silently stood up and turned in the direction of the Forbidden Forest.

Ginny held her breath as she, too, turned toward the Forest. She couldn't see anything even remotely suspicious or out of place, but Harry was still coiled up like a spring. One foot shifted slightly forward; his wand hand rose a little higher…

He suddenly whipped around, pointed his wand at Ginny and bellowed, _"Stupefy!"_

Hermione screamed; there was a bang and flash of light. Remus heard the hiss of a snake and barely saw the tip of a tail as it vanished into the grass again.

"_Get out of here!" _Harry roared, pulling a startled but unscathed Ginny to her feet. He shoved her away from him as he made a slashing movement with his wand; it burned a line through the grass before him.

"We're not – "

"Do as he says!" Remus shouted, cutting Ron off as he grabbed his wrist and dragged him back toward the castle. Hermione and Ginny dashed alongside them. _"Protego!"_

A giant bubble appeared around the four of them as they sprinted for the front doors. Behind them, there were more loud bangs and bright flashes.

"W-What is it?" Ron gasped as they sped up the stairs. Remus yanked open the doors and roughly pushed him inside. He shot in after Hermione and slammed the doors shut.

"Get Professor McGonagall!" he shouted. The other students seemed to have just finished dinner; most of them had been milling around in the entrance hall and turned to stare as Remus hurriedly issued orders to Ron and Hermione.

"What's going on?"

Ginny spun around to see Neville and Luna pushing their way out of the crowd to approach her.

"I-I don't – "

"It was Nagini," Remus said grimly. His hands were shaking. "Harry was attacked by Nagini."

­––––––

Harry gritted his teeth. He could only catch glimpses of the snake as it slithered through the grass. He had already moved closer to the edge of the Forest, where the grass was thinner. It hadn't helped much.

He flicked his wand in a circle; all of the grass within a five foot radius instantly shriveled and burst into flame.

_No surprise attacks, then._

Nagini was much smaller than he remembered her and ridiculously quick. He could barely keep track of where she was by her hissing and the slight rustle of grass around her when she moved. And she had most likely had some sort of spell of protection cast on her; he was sure several of his spells had hit her before but it hadn't seemed to have much effect.

"_Finite Incantatem," _he muttered. The air to his left shimmered. He immediately flicked his wand at it.

There was an earsplitting _bang _and a thin green snake flew into the air.

"_Impedimenta! Stupefy!"_

Both spells seemed to veer around the snake and they crashed harmlessly into the ground. Nagini swiftly slithered back out of sight, into the Forest. Harry cursed under his breath.

It suddenly occurred to him that moving nearer to the Forest had been a bad idea.

A _very _bad idea.

A loud hiss confirmed that thought. Before Harry could react, Nagini dropped down from a tree branch hanging overhead.

"_Protego!" _Harry bellowed. There was a sharp _clang _as the snake hit his defenses – and penetrated them. Nagini was _on his head _– and all of a sudden, he felt her tail wrap around his throat.

He gasped as he grabbed the constricting tail with one hand, trying to stab at her with his wand with the other – it wasn't working, he was going to choke – spells fled from his mind – he couldn't breathe –

His wand abruptly made contact with Nagini's head and the tail momentarily loosened. With a choking gasp he dug his fingers into the snake's body and attempted to rip it off.

Nagini's tail slackened, just like that. Harry pulled his arm back to throw her off.

The snake struck.

Harry screamed as white-hot pain erupted in his arm. It felt like two daggers had been buried deep into his flesh. There was a thunderous _boom _like a clap of thunder that echoed in his ears; Harry screamed again as the snake's fangs were ripped out of his arm and blasted away.

Blood gushed out of the two wounds. Harry fell to his knees. He couldn't remember a healing spell for the life of him. His vision blurred. There was poison…venom…he had to get…the venom…out…

_Please help me._

_Help me._

_Please..._

_...Help._

He barely felt his body hit the ground. He could only feel his arm throbbing, the warm blood spreading over his robes, the dirt. And Nagini was still out there…she could finish him off, get into the castle…

_No._

Tears stung his eyes as he lay on the ground, unable to move. He couldn't feel his arm; there had definitely been poison in Nagini's fangs.

_Not now._

_Not yet._

_Please._

There was a flash of gold. Red. Feathers.

_Phoenix…_

A lilting melody.

…_Fawkes._

He vaguely felt talons perch on his arm. Dimly saw the outline of a great fiery bird.

Clearly felt tears drip onto the wound. Plainly saw the sky overhead come sharply back into focus.

He sat up. Fawkes was staring at him.

"You came," Harry whispered. "You…" He looked down at his arm. It was drenched in blood, but there was no trace of a wound. "You healed my arm. Again."

Fawkes bobbed his head. He lifted one leg. Harry's wand was clutched in his talons.

"Thanks," he said, taking the wand. "Nagini…?"

Fawkes turned his gaze back out toward the lake.

"Still alive," Harry said, getting to his feet. A wave of dizziness hit him; he had to lean on a tree for support until it passed.

Fawkes spread his wings wide but didn't move.

"Alive, but not moving," Harry nodded, grimacing. "Injured. Fawkes…is she the last Horcrux?"

The phoenix did nothing.

_Is that a yes or a no?_

Harry shook his head. Trying to figure it out now would be a waste of time. Even if Nagini wasn't the sixth Horcrux, getting rid of her would enrage the Dark Dork. He didn't honestly think Nagini had been sent to kill him, but he didn't think the Dark Dork had thought his beloved snake would meet her death here, either.

Harry strode out toward the lake, moving his wand in a sweeping motion before him as he went. Something to his right suddenly glowed bright orange. He advanced toward it cautiously, his wand at the ready.

He found the snake lying in the grass, motionless except for the occasional flicker of her tongue and the feeble movement of her tail. Harry raised his wand.

_Good riddance._

––––––

"What's happening?" Ron asked anxiously. His face was pale. "Is he all right?"

"Stop asking," Ginny snapped. "We won't know until Remus comes back."

They were still sitting in the entrance hall, along with what seemed to be the entire student body – word had spread quickly of the snake's attack. The PA huddled together beside the front doors, ready to come to Harry's aid. Professor McGonagall had cancelled classes until further notice, which Ginny supposed was just as well since she was sure everyone would refuse to go anyway. They were also forbidden from going outside. Remus and Tonks had left with Professor McGonagall to "help Harry." Ginny wasn't sure how they could be of any use to him by locking themselves inside McGonagall's office, but it wasn't like she could do anything about it.

It had been six minutes. She itched to go outside, but she knew all too well that she would only prove to be a distraction. A hindrance.

It infuriated her to think – to _know _– that when it came down to the real battles, that was all she was. And everyone else, for that matter. None of them had the strength or the skill to fight alongside Harry. They could only sit on the sidelines and hope for the best. And pick up whatever pieces were left at the end.

Ginny's thoughts were cut short when a thunderous voice uttered two words that echoed like gongs in the entrance hall.

_::GET HARRY!::_

Ginny immediately leapt to her feet and raced for the front doors. She barreled through them, followed by Ron and Hermione. A small part of her mind registered the fact that she could hear Dean, Seamus, and Ernie shouting at the others to stay behind.

She spotted Harry lying in the grass, unconscious. Blood soaked the front of his robes and drenched his arm. Beside him, there was a small, smoking crater in the ground.

Ron attempted to shift Harry onto his back, but Hermione pulled him aside. "No, this is easier – _Mobilicorpus!" _she said, pointing her wand at Harry. He rose into the air and floated beside them like a marionette.

"Let's go," she said hurriedly, dashing back toward the castle.

They got Harry inside just as the Death Gobblers appeared.

_::SHUT THE DOORS!:: _Remus' voice thundered again. Waves of students pressed against the great oaken doors, slamming them shut in an instant.

There were screams as people caught glimpses of Harry.

"_Move!" _Dean bellowed at the crowd as Ron, Hermione, and Ginny tired to push through to the Hospital Wing. _"Get out of the way!"_

Remus and Tonks suddenly appeared at the top of the marble staircase. "All students to the dungeons!" Remus shouted as he hurried down the stairs. "All students to the dungeons!"

"You heard him!" Ernie yelled over the din. "Move!"

Prefects began herding the younger students toward the lower levels. The older students soon began to follow.

Tonks moved toward Harry as Hermione, Ron, and Ginny reached the top of the stairs.

"I'll get him to the Hospital Wing," she said, flicking her wand at Harry. "You three go into the dungeons, too."

"But – "

"No buts." Tonks had already turned around and was hurrying up to the Hospital Wing.

"Remus, what's going on?" Ginny demanded, spinning around to face him.

"Death Eaters," Remus said shortly. "Go, get down there."

"And just let them destroy Hogwarts?" Ron asked incredulously.

"We have to fight!" Ginny said fiercely.

"No, you don't," Remus said in a maddeningly level tone of voice. "Now get down to the dungeons."

"I'm not going to let – "

"Just do as he says!" Hermione cried, grabbing Ron and Ginny's wrists and pulling them down the stairs. She adamantly ignored their furious protests. "We'll figure something out down there!"

Ernie met them as they reached the lower levels. "We've got the PA all in one room," he said. "Neville's with them."

Hermione nodded and released Ginny and Ron. "And everyone else?"

"The prefects are with them."

"How many Death Gobblers?" Ginny asked.

"At least fifty," answered a deep voice.

The four of them spun around to find Kingsley and Mad-Eye standing behind them.

"Where's the meeting?" Mad-Eye growled.

Hermione's jaw dropped. "You – you know?" she asked in disbelief. "About the PA?"

"Harry recruited us," Kingsley said with a fleeting grin. "To make sure none of you get yourselves killed."

"Blackthorn and Drake are on their way," Mad-Eye added. "Now where's the bloody meeting?"

"H-Here," Ernie said nervously, leading the way down the dimly lit corridor to the first door on the right.

Everyone looked up as the six of them trooped in.

"Hermione!" Neville said, jumping down from the chair he'd been standing on.

"How's Harry?" someone called out.

"We don't know," Hermione said, shaking her head. "He's in the Hospital Wing."

"Are there really Death Gobblers out there?"

"Damn right there are," Mad-Eye growled.

"Are we going to fight them?"

"It's not like last time," Neville said. "If we go outside, we'll be slaughtered."

Mad-Eye nodded affirmatively. "There's at least fifty out there, and only a handful of you could even hope to stand a chance against them."

"Such optimism," Kingsley said dryly.

"Yes, it's often commented upon."

"How did they get in?" Demelza asked. "Last time the wards – "

" – were strong enough," Mad-Eye said. "This time they weren't."

"But why aren't they attacking?" Michael Corner asked, knitting his brows.

"They are," Kingsley said grimly. "You just can't tell from down here."

"So what the hell are we going to do?" Zacharias Smith asked in irritation. "Just watch Hogwarts fall apart and let ourselves be killed?"

"Shut up, you," Dean and Seamus said together.

"Of course we won't," Neville said firmly. "We're going to fight."

"We are?" Ron asked.

"How?" Mad-Eye asked. He was looking directly at Neville.

Neville took a deep breath. "From here, inside the castle," he said. "We've been working on long-range spells these past few weeks. If we can launch counter-attacks from the windows or something, we can fight back without putting ourselves into danger."

"Long-range spells?" Kingsley frowned. "Like arrows?"

"Sort of," Neville said. "And homing missiles."

"What's a homing missile?" Ron asked.

"Explain that later," Mad-Eye said. "What are these long-range spells like?"

"Well…Anthony and James thought of them," Neville said. "They're combination spells, really. It takes two people. One person casts any sort of spell, like the Disarming Charm, and casts a Target Jinx immediately after, while the other person casts a Sticking Spell. Fusion Charms work, too, but most of us can't do those. That combines the attacking spell and the Target Jinx."

"That just might work," Kingsley said slowly. "Have you tried it?"

"Yeah," Anthony nodded. "They work."

"I like the way you think," Mad-Eye said with a grin.

Professor Blackthorn and Professor Drake suddenly appeared in the doorway.

"What did we miss?" Blackthorn asked.

"An ingenious plan," Mad-Eye replied. "Death Eaters?"

"They're being held off by the centaurs and some mermen," Drake said. "We don't have much time, though."

"The Aurors should be here in ten or fifteen minutes," Blackthorn said.

"Enough time to destroy a school," Kingsley murmured. "If we don't do anything."

"So what's this ingenious plan?"

"Long-range spells," Kingsley said. "We'll explain later."

"And Kevin and Veronica came up with spell-bombs," Neville said.

"Spell-bombs?"

Neville looked to Kevin and Veronica.

"They're like Muggle bombs," Veronica explained. "But when they explode, they release spells."

"You cast a Bubble Charm like this," Kevin said. He created a small bubble with a wave of his wand; it hovered on the tip. "Then someone else reinforces it with an Unbreakable Charm and then casts an Exploding Curse on it. Then they fill the bubble up with spells and cast the bubble at your target. It explodes ten seconds after it's released."

Kevin and Veronica completed their demonstration by filling their bubble with an Antler Jinx. It burst with a bang after ten seconds, and a pair of antlers promptly appeared on Terry Boot's head.

Mad-Eye and Kingsley looked terribly impressed. "Brilliant," Kingsley said.

"But if we use the bombs, there's a chance they'll hit the centaurs or mermen, too," Ginny said with a frown.

"We can cast Shield Charms on the centaurs before the spell-bombs detonate," Hermione said.

"Well?" someone said impatiently. "Let's get started, then!"

Neville nodded. "We'll split into six groups. John and I will divide the healers and Hermione and Ernie can split the research group. Is anyone willing to take charge instead of Harry?"

Colin spoke up. "Harry said that Blaise and Kevin should lead his group if he wasn't there."

The two boys looked at each other and nodded. "We'll do it."

"All right," Neville said. "Find the corridors with the most windows and start from there. And remember, you don't have to go if you don't want to or you don't think you can help. Nobody's being forced to do this."

There were nods all around. The leaders promptly broke up their groups and quickly led them out of the dungeons. Ginny and Ron ended up in Blaise's group, and Kingsley tagged along as they left the room.

Blaise led them to the third-floor corridor, where they split up further into teams of four and stood by the windows.

"Remember to specify your targets, and watch out for any counter-attacks," Blaise warned. He was with Ginny, Ron, and a fourth year named Katie Nagle.

Ginny glanced out the window as they got ready; what she saw made her gasp. The lawns were strewn with bodies and blood. Bright flashes of light illuminated the battlefield all too well, and screams and shouts mingled with the explosions of colliding spells.

"Ready?" Blaise said.

Ginny tore her gaze away from the window. She watched Katie conjure the bubble and Blaise add the Unbreakable Charm and Exploding Curse. She and Ron then cast a Disarming Charm, Bat-Bogey Hex, Confunding Charm, and Finger-Removing Jinx into the bubble. Right before Katie released it, Ginny and Blaise cast long-range Shield Charms on the centaurs surrounding their targets.

"Fire away," Blaise said to Katie.

She quickly stepped up to the window and pointed the bubble on the end of her wand at the group of Death Gobblers below. The bubble shot off into the air and sped toward the Death Gobblers, who were already confused by the Shield Charms on the attacking centaurs. Katie stumbled back from the force of the spell, but Blaise caught her arm to steady her.

The four of them watched with satisfaction as their spell-bomb exploded in the midst of the Death Gobblers.

"Blimey," Ron said softly.

"It really works," Ginny whispered as they saw another spell-bomb blast through a group of Death Gobblers by the lake. Other long-range spells peppered the battlefield and lit up the sky like fireworks.

"Sure does," Blaise nodded.

* * *

The four of them turned away from the window and began another spell-bomb. 

Remus, Tonks, and Minerva looked up as the door burst open. Drake stood panting in the doorway. "The Aurors are here," he said breathlessly.

"The students?" Minerva asked, quickly standing up. She had hardly been able to believe it when Kingsley had told her what they were doing, but she had to admit that it was ingenious. And it worked.

"Two were slightly injured when a window smashed on the second floor, but otherwise they're fine," Drake said. "Are we going?"

"_I _am," Tonks said, grabbing her cloak and heading for the door.

"So am I," Remus said, following her.

Minerva smiled thinly. "I believe I won't be of much use out there," she said humorlessly. "I will remain here."

Drake nodded. "The centaurs and mermen already took out a good number of them," he said, "and there are about twenty Aurors." He turned to leave. "It won't take long now."

Minerva sighed as she heard his footsteps fade away.

_I hope so._

* * *

Up Next: The Final Battle! Oooh! ...Er...we think, anyway. We're not sure yet. :P Please review! 


	21. A Battle of Wills

So. We just saw OotP. It was…very disappointing, to put it nicely. Really. If you haven't seen it yet, we advise you not to. Not in theaters anyway, because it would just be a waste of money – especially if you've read all the books. The biggest problem we had with it was the plot. They just cut out so many scenes that it was ridiculous. Sort of made us wonder how anyone who hadn't read the book could follow it all. Jumped around a lot, skipped so many funny dialogues and important transitional scenes… And the characters. We just realized how much we hate how Dumbledore is portrayed – he's too serious, too hasty, too brusque. Not the whimsical, enchanting old man from the books. And they got rid of his half-moon glasses. Jeez. And Tonks – we're not sure about the rest of you, but that was definitely _not _the way we pictured her. And like Dumbledore, she came off as much too serious. She also had virtually no screen time along with Remus and Hagrid, which is a shame because they're all great characters.

And we come to our next biggest peeve – Sirius. The entire Department of Mysteries thing was terrible. Hardly no action – just a lot of crashing and lights when the shelves were knocked down. They skipped the Brain Room, the planets, the spinning doors, the Time Turners – you'd think they could have fit at least _one _of those in. And Sirius' death was atrocious. We were prepared to sob over it – cry a river, ocean, that sort of thing – but it was just so…abrupt. Plain. _Boring. _The only thing we can say about this is that if they screw up Dumbledore's death in HBP, we're giving up on the movies. We'll probably only watch that for the HarryGinny stuff.

On the other hand, we approved of Dolores Umbridge and Filch. Her character was funny to watch on screen, and the same goes for Luna – great one for laughs. Very airy and vague. And there was some nice foreshadowing concerning Ginny, who did some pretty impressive spellwork and who was always looking back when Harry and Cho were together – but of course, that's just our Ginny's-the-best thing talking. :P

Also disappointed that they cut Quidditch, Firenze, Dobby…we could go on forever about this. Probably the best thing about it was the special effects, especially at the end, and the funny parts that they kept. Kreacher and Grawp were done well, as well as Fred and George's fireworks – even if they completely did away with why they did it.

Overall, we believe it was the worst out of the five movies. We know it's daunting for a director to reel out a five/six hour movie, but this is _Harry Potter _we're talking about. We, for two, would definitely sit through all of it if it was done the right way. Fortunately, it provided just enough inspiration for us to whip this chapter together. So maybe it wasn't a complete waste of time.

…Sorry for that rant. We just had to put it out there. Feel free to comment. On with the story...

(By the way, we sort of lost track of the dates in this story, so we're going to start putting down dates from here. We'll probably change previous chapters later.)

**

* * *

A Battle of Wills - **_"You've taken everything from me, Harry Potter. In return of the favor, I will take everything from you."_

**31 April, 1997, 11:48PM  
****Third floor corridor, Hogwarts**

Fred sighed. He slumped to the ground beside George and looked around. "Harry?"

"Still unconscious," Charlie said as he leaned his head back against the wall. "Fawkes might have healed the snake's bite, but that doesn't change the fact that he lost a load of blood."

"Ginny?" George asked.

"Still inside," Bill replied, nodding toward the closed doors of the Hospital Wing across the hall. "Ron and Hermione, too."

Charlie shook his head. "I hate seeing her like that," he said quietly. "It's almost heartbreaking."

"I know," Bill sighed. "It scares me, that they're so close. So vulnerable."

"You see her eyes?" Fred asked, shivering. "The light was gone. That glow in her eyes."

George stared at the ground. "Just gone," he agreed.

They heard footsteps and voices coming from the stairway, and turned to see Blackthorn and Drake walk up to them.

"The Aurors are finishing up," Drake said, wiping blood and grime off his face.

"Thanks for coming," Blackthorn said to Fred, George, Bill, and Charlie.

George shook his head. "No problem."

"How many?" Bill asked.

"Fifty-three, all told," Drake answered. "Some of them tried to run into the Forbidden Forest at the end, but that didn't work out too well for them."

"Centaurs?"

Drake nodded. "They have nine dead and four wounded. They're not too happy."

"Five mermen are dead, too," Blackthorn added. "Three wounded. Their casualties aren't that heavy since most of them stayed in the lake."

"Any of ours?"

"Ten Aurors in St. Mungo's," Drake said. "Kingsley and Tonks are fine for the most part. Six students reported minor injuries, but they've already been bandaged up by Madam Pomfrey."

"Fourteen dead, none of them ours," Bill sighed. "That's a miracle."

Blackthorn ran a hand through his hair. "It was that PA. They did brilliant work. Those long-range spells and bomb things were ingenious."

"And all of them working together," Drake said with a rueful smile. "Still can't believe it."

Fred hesitated. "And…is it true? About Remus?"

Bill frowned. "Yeah, I heard about that. What happened?"

Drake and Blackthorn smiled. "That's what we came to tell you. The Medi-Wizards confirmed it just a minute ago. Fenrir Greyback is definitely dead."

Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George grinned. "All right!"

"Best news I've heard all month," Fred said.

"Remus insisted he wasn't hurt, but they sent him to St. Mungo's anyway," Drake said.

"So how did he do it?" George asked.

Blackthorn shrugged. "Technically speaking, he didn't actually kill him. He just managed to Stun him, and a passing Auror finished him off. But everyone gives him the credit."

Charlie nodded. "Good for him. Finally got his revenge, didn't he?"

"And yours, too," George said, nodding at Bill.

They all smiled.

"So how long are you two here?" Fred asked.

"We actually have to leave now," Blackthorn said. "Are you all staying overnight?"

Charlie nodded. "At Madam Pomfrey's behest."

"Right," Drake smiled. "We'll see you later, then. We'll send a Patronus if anything new comes up."

"Thanks," Bill said, raising his hand in farewell. Blackthorn and Drake bade their goodbyes and left the way they'd come.

George let out a long breath. The four brothers were quiet for a moment.

"Where's Mum and Dad, by the way?" Fred asked after a while. "Shouldn't Mum be blubbering over the lot of them right about now?"

"She and Dad are up in McGonagall's office," Bill said. "Dunno what they're doing."

They fell silent again. Moonlight pierced the windows and made puddles on the floor in the middle of the corridor. Bill absently fingered a scar on his arm. Madam Pomfrey had furnished an empty chamber off the Hospital Wing with beds and told them to sleep there for tonight, but Bill didn't feel like sleeping. He was tired, all right, but he knew he wouldn't be able to close his eyes.

The door to the Hospital Wing suddenly creaked open and Ginny stepped out, followed by Ron. They both sported bandages where they had been cut by shattered windows; Ron's forehead was tightly wrapped, making his hair stick out in odd places, and Ginny's left arm was covered in bandages from the wrist to the elbow.

"Hey, munchkin," Bill said softly. "You all right?"

Ginny's lip quivered. She shook her head.

Bill patted the ground between him and Charlie. "Come on."

Ginny walked quickly toward her brothers, keeping her head down. She sat next to Bill and buried her face in his robes.

"It's okay to cry, kid," Charlie said gently. Bill put one arm around his sister and shifted so that she was all but sitting in his lap.

Ron took a seat beside Charlie while Fred and George stood up and sat down on Bill's other side, and the five Weasley brothers all huddled around their sister. She cried for a long time, soaking the front of Bill's robes. He didn't even notice as he held Ginny tight.

Her sobs eventually died down, and she fell asleep in the crook of Bill's arm.

"Hermione?" Bill asked quietly over Ginny's head.

"Sleeping," Ron said. He seemed to barely have the strength to keep his eyes open.

"You should be doing the same," Bill said. "Going back to your dorm?"

He shook his head. "Madam Pomfrey said to stay."

"Then go in," Charlie said, nodding at the door.

"You sure?"

George snorted. "We're not going to let you die of exhaustion," he said. "Mum would have us hanged."

Ron gave them a fleeting smile as he stood up. "All right. Take care of Ginny."

"As always," Bill nodded.

The older boys watched as Ron slipped back into the Hospital Wing. Fred shook his head. "Can't believe that's our little Ronniekins."

"All grown up now," George sighed.

Charlie ran his fingers through Ginny's hair. "Ginny, too."

Fred grinned as he looked down at his sister's face. "Sometimes I wonder if she's really related to us," he said musingly. "Hard to believe that such a cute little girl could come from _our_ family."

"Don't worry," Bill chuckled. "She seems to take after you two enough."

"Our pride and joy," George said satisfactorily.

"Who'd've thought she'd get mixed up in all this?" Charlie asked quietly. "With Harry Potter, of all people."

"Honestly."

Ginny suddenly stirred.

"Shh," Bill whispered. "You'll wake her up."

"Too late," Ginny said in a sleepy voice. She rubbed her eyes and sat up – and noticed Bill's robes. "Merlin's beard," she said. "Did I do that?"

Bill grinned. "Don't worry about it, munchkin. Feel better?"

She brushed her hair out of her face and sank back into Bill's arms again. "A bit," she mumbled.

"You sure you're doing the right thing?" Charlie asked. "Being attached to him, I mean."

Ginny took a moment to answer. "This…this is what I've wanted all my life," she said with a small shrug. "I didn't realize the price would be so high. But then again, I didn't think the rewards would be so great, either."

"So it's worth it?"

"I had a chance to be normal, with Dean," Ginny said quietly. "I could have stepped out and watched all of this from the sidelines. But that would've been boring."

Fred and George grinned at each other. "Now _that _sounds like a Weasley."

"Besides," Ginny said, "he can make me feel like I'm the most important person in the world. Like I'm the only one that matters." She took a deep breath. "I…love him."

Charlie smiled and poked Ginny's shoulder. "Grow up all you want, munchkin," he said, "but you'll always be our little sister."

Ginny smiled back and reached out to hug him. "Thanks, Charlie." She let him go and hugged Bill, too. "I love you."

"What, we don't get hugs?" Fred asked indignantly.

"No," Ginny said, making a face at their blood-spattered clothes and grimy cheeks. "You two are dirty."

Bill and Charlie laughed.

**

* * *

****4 May, 1997, 10:39PM  
Gryffindor common room, Hogwarts**

"I have a bad feeling about this."

"Stop being such a worrywart," Ron sighed.

Hermione crossed her arms. "I am _not _being a worrywart."

"Are too."

"Am not."

Ginny rolled her eyes. Hermione had been hanging around her brother for too long.

"Did he tell _you _what this is about?" Ron asked, turning on her.

"Would I be here if he had?"

"Oh. Right."

The portrait hole suddenly opened and Harry climbed through. "Hey – sorry I'm late," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I had to stop by McGonagall's office." He took a seat in an armchair across from them.

"_See?" _Hermione said to Ron. "_That _look. I don't like that look."

"Isn't that how he always looks?" Ron asked weakly.

Hermione sighed.

Harry smiled grimly. "He'll be at Godric's Hollow," he said quietly.

They froze.

"Er...what?" Ron said.

"How do you know?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"This," Harry said, tossing a folded scrap of parchment onto the table. Hermione snatched it up and unfolded it; Ginny and Ron leaned over her shoulders to read along.

"_The Dark Lord will be at Godric's Hollow the night of the 9__th__ of May. Be ready. – HBP"_

Hermione looked up at him incredulously. "HBP? _Snape?_"

Harry nodded.

"You can't trust Snape!" Ron exclaimed.

"How did you get this?" Hermione demanded.

Harry shrugged; he was watching Ginny as she tapped the parchment with her wand.

"It's obviously not a fake," she said slowly as the note glowed a delicate shade of yellow. "It doesn't react to the Forgery Charm."

Harry nodded in approval. "That aside, I can tell you for sure that it's real. I got the message by Patronus first."

"Patronus?" Hermione repeated, disbelief written all over her face.

"At 5:30 this morning," Harry said. "Said exactly what's written on that note."

"How do you know he's not lying?" Hermione demanded. "How do you know it's not a trap? He's a _Death Gobbler, _Harry. One of the top."

"And he murdered Dumbledore," Ginny added.

"He's not lying," Harry shrugged. "He told me under Veritaserum."

"How does _that _work?" Ron asked exasperatedly.

"There's a special form of Patronus messaging," Harry explained. "Kind of like talking through the fire, only you can use your Patronus instead of the fire. Let's you see the person you're talking to."

"You're telling me Snape _willingly _took Veritaserum and told you that the Dark Dork would be at Godric's Hollow?" Hermione asked skeptically.

Harry nodded. "Look, I'm not asking you to believe me. I know what happened and I know what I'm going to do."

"You're going to _go?" _Ron spluttered.

"Harry…" Ginny said quietly.

"What else is there to do?" Harry asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Hermione said sarcastically. "Alert the Ministry of Magic and have _them _kill the Dark Dork?"

Harry smiled wryly. "Don't you think that's what I want to do? But we can't, and you know it. Aurors or not, none of them stand a chance against him."

"And you do?" Hermione snapped.

"Yes," Ginny answered. Harry looked at her in surprise. She shrugged her shoulders. "I believe you do."

Harry smiled. "Thank you," he said softly.

"It could still be a trap," Hermione said adamantly. "He could bring along his entire army of Death Gobblers, and you would be trampled before you'd even get to the Dark Dork."

"He can bring all the Death Gobblers in the world," Harry said quietly. "They can't stop me."

And the way he said it made them believe him. They were silent for a long time, looking anywhere but at Harry.

"Now look," Harry sighed. "I know you've all sworn to hang me if I say this one more time, but I have to make sure. This is it. There's no going back; there's no rest until it's over. It's going to be either me or him still standing at the end, but I want to make sure everyone is safe no matter what happens. So I'll ask for the last time: Do you want to come with me?"

"However good your intentions," Hermione sniffed, "I'm ashamed you have to ask."

"Yeah," Ron said matter-of-factly. "You'd get yourself killed without us."

"Right," Harry grinned.

Ginny smiled. "You're not going anywhere alone."

Harry bowed his head and stared down at the ground for a moment. When he looked back up, there was a sad smile on his face. "Thanks," he said. "For…everything."

Ginny stood up, walked around the table, and sat beside Harry. She kissed his cheek and laid her head on his shoulder. "No need for thanks," she whispered.

"That's what we're here for," Hermione nodded.

"Forever and always," Ron grinned.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "That's so corny."

"But it's true," Harry smiled, kissing the top of her head. He slipped his arm around her waist and stood up with her. "I'm tired. What do you say we go to bed?"

"Harry," Hermione said, looking consternated, "May 9th is this weekend!"

"You three don't have to worry about anything," he said, shaking his head. "I've arranged all of it."

He turned around and headed for the stairs with Ginny. Hermione and Ron looked at each other before hurrying after them.

––––––

Harry kissed Ginny goodnight and started climbing the stairs up to the dormitory with Ron. Ron glanced sideways at him; he seemed to be lost in thought as he twirled his wand between his fingers. Ron felt like he had to say something, but he didn't know what. They went up the rest of the way to their room without speaking.

Harry remained silent as they changed into their pajamas and got into bed. Dean, Seamus, and Neville were already asleep and snoring away.

Ron sighed and pulled his sheets up to his chin.

_Tomorrow's the fifth. Five more days…_

…_He'll be fine. He's Harry. And he's so much stronger. Fearless._

_And with all the Horcruxes destroyed…_

_He can win._

"Harry?" Ron whispered into the night.

"Yeah?" Harry whispered back.

Ron bit his lip. "I, uh…I just…wanted to say…" He blew out his cheeks. "…Thanks, mate."

Harry was quiet for so long that Ron was beginning to think he hadn't heard him.

"Harry?"

"No, Ron," he said, so softly that Ron had to strain to hear him. "It's me that needs to thank you. All of you. Because I haven't said it nearly enough times."

**

* * *

****9 May, 1997, 10:54PM  
Gryffindor common room, Hogwarts**

Ginny shivered as Harry tapped her on the head with his wand. She looked down at herself to find that she had blended in with the wall behind her.

"Disillusionment Charm," Harry explained as he applied the same spell to Ron. "Easier than the Invisibility Cloak."

Satisfied that the three of them were properly camouflaged, Harry performed the charm on himself and turned toward the portrait hole. Before he could take more than two steps, however, someone came hurrying down the stairs.

"Shh!" Hermione whispered.

It was Neville.

He looked out worriedly into the common room. "Harry?" he called out softly. "Ron? Hermione? Ginny?"

Harry said nothing.

"I know you're here," Neville said, sounding desperate. "I know you're still here!"

Ginny heard Harry sigh. "What is it, Neville?" he asked.

Neville whipped around toward the sound of his voice. "Harry?"

"Not this time," Harry said quietly.

"I didn't come to stop you," Neville shook his head, taking a step forward. "I know where you're going. I-I want to go, too."

Ginny looked at him, startled. _Neville?_

"I-I've been practicing, Harry. I can hold my own against the Death Gobblers! You won't have to worry about me!"

Harry sighed again. "Neville, if you really know where we're going, you know you can't go."

"Yes I can, Harry," Neville said with a firmness that seemed to surprise even himself. "And I will! And so is Luna!"

"_What?" _Ron groaned.

"We're wasting time," Harry said darkly. His voice sounded farther away; it took Ginny a moment to realize he was moving toward the portrait hole. "You can come, Neville; and Luna, too. But you have to promise that you will _not _go after Bellatrix."

Neville paled.

"Neville?"

He swallowed hard. "I-I promise."

"Let's go."

Harry led them out of the portrait hole and cast the Disillusionment Charm on Neville. "Where's Luna?"

"She should be waiting by the Great Hall," Neville whispered.

Ginny suddenly felt Harry's hand take hers. She didn't ask who he knew where she was.

"Ron, take Ginny's hand; Hermione, take Ron's," he said. "Ready?"

"Ready," they replied. No one asked what he was doing.

All of a sudden, the world went black. Ginny gasped as she was jerked into the air. Harry squeezed her hand, assuring her that things were going as planned.

When the colors returned to her vision, she found herself in front of the Great Hall.

"What _was _that?" Neville asked wonderingly.

"Form of Apparition," Harry said. "Closer to the kind that house elves do. Where's Luna?"

"Harry?"

Luna stepped out from the shadows.

"Good," Harry said. "Come here."

Luna obeyed instantly and didn't say a word as the Disillusionment Charm was cast on her.

"Everybody take each other's hands again," Harry instructed as he grabbed Ginny's hand again. "Are we ready?"

Ginny took a deep breath. "Ready."

"Let's go."

––––––

**9 May, 1997, 11:08PM  
****Godric's Hollow**

The first thing Ginny noticed was the clouds. They roiled over the sky as if fighting each other for dominance, all of them an angry shade of blue and gray. It was colder, too; much colder.

And she also noticed that she could see herself again.

"No need to hide now," Harry said quietly.

Ginny instinctively stepped closer to him, as did the others.

"D-Do you know where he is?" Ron asked nervously. His hands were shaking.

Harry nodded. "He's waiting for us."

Hermione shivered.

"This is the village square," Harry informed them as he began walking past a row of abandoned shops. The others walked two paces behind him. "There's a cemetery in this direction," he continued, "and the house my parents lived in."

A thought suddenly occurred to Ginny. "You don't think…?"

Harry shook his head. "It was destroyed that night. There's nothing left for him to desecrate."

Ginny nodded, though she knew he couldn't see her. The main street they were on eventually branched off into smaller side streets. The dilapidated houses threw dark, jagged shadows at their feet.

Harry picked up his pace as he turned a corner. Ginny and the others followed him...

Only to find that he was nowhere to be seen.

Instead, a silver phoenix appeared before them.

_::I swear I'll protect every single one of you.:: _Harry's voice whispered. _::No matter what it takes.::_

"Where did he _go?" _Ron asked bewilderedly as the phoenix blew away.

Ginny looked up and down the street, panic growing by the second.

Hermione looked furious. "What. A. _Prat."_

––––––

The house was shrouded in a mist that obscured the neighboring buildings. The windows were thick and foggy.

Harry faced the closed door with his wand in hand. He had seen this door – and this house – enough times in his dreams to realize it was important. He didn't know yet whether it was real or just an illusion, or if the mist was natural. But he did know that this was where Voldemort was waiting.

He pushed open the door and stepped inside.

He was in a large, spacious room. It was very dim, and what little light there was seemed hazy. It was furnished like a regular house, with a couch, two armchairs, a rocking chair, and a coffee table. There was also a small, round table to his right, complete with two high-backed chairs. The air in its vicinity was darker and it swirled around like someone was stirring it.

It was this table that Harry faced.

"Tea, Harry?"

Harry didn't even blink. "Hello, Tom."

The air stopped swirling for a moment, and the darker area seemed to fold in upon itself until it disappeared.

Lord Voldemort sat in one of the high-backed chairs with a tray of tea and crumpets on the table before him. He was in the guise of the younger Tom that had inhabited his diary.

"I thought we should have a little chat," Tom said pleasantly. "We haven't talked in quite a while."

"I noticed that, too," Harry nodded. "I've been a bit busy these past few months."

Tom's eyes flashed. "Really," he said in the same pleasant tone. "Well, all the more reason to talk, hmm?"

"Sorry, Tom," Harry said. "I'm afraid I don't have time for idle chitchat tonight."

Tom smiled. "I thought you'd say that," he said. He leaned back in his chair and lazily snapped his fingers.

Two large Death Eaters appeared by the left and right walls with their brawny arms locked around Neville's and Ron's throats. A stocky little Death Eater appeared by the front wall, holding his wand to Hermione's throat. And a fourth, final Death Eater materialized in front of the back wall. Harry didn't turn around.

"I was hoping this would give you some incentive to stay," Tom said.

Harry sighed. "I was hoping we could leave them out of this."

"Now, Harry," Tom drawled. "I know you don't think I'm so stupid to pass up a chance such as this. If you had wanted to keep them out of harm's way, you should have left them behind."

"I should have," Harry said quietly.

"So," Tom said amiably as he sipped from his teacup. "How _did _you know I was here?"

Harry poured himself a cup of tea. He forced himself to focus on Tom and ignore Ron's struggling and Hermione's frantic gestures.

"Does it matter?" Harry shrugged. He took a sip. "Good tea."

"Only the finest," Tom said, inclining his head.

"So what is it you wanted to talk about?"

"Oh, this and that," Tom said airily. "Crumpets?"

Harry took a crumpet from the proffered plate. "Thank you."

"But first, I'd like to ask you some questions."

––––––

_What the _hell _is he doing?_

Anger and worry and fear collided in her mind, leaving her feeling like she wanted to bite off the fingers of her captor. The wand tip pressing into her throat was becoming painful, and it didn't help that the Death Gobbler also had her arm twisted behind her back.

None of them had even had time to gasp. The Death Gobblers had snuck up on them not even a minute after Harry had disappeared. And here they found him having _tea _with the Dark Dork.

Ginny was clearly unnerved at the sight of this younger Voldemort. From the descriptions she had given of her vivid nightmares in second year, Hermione assumed that this was what the Voldemort in Riddle's diary had looked like.

Ron and Neville struggled vainly against their captors. They grimaced as the burly arms slowly tightened around their necks.

Harry didn't seem concerned at all. He was conversing lightly with Voldemort and sipping calmly at his tea. He didn't even look tense.

She couldn't take it. "Harry, _what _are you – "

She gasped as the Death Gobbler dug his wand deeper into her throat.

"Quiet," he growled. "The Dark Lord is speaking."

Hermione swallowed hard and looked back at Harry.

"It's certainly a possibility," he was saying.

Voldemort looked very pleased. "I've always thought it was a shame that we had to waste so many years in conflict."

"Regrettable," Harry agreed. "It could have been much more productive."

"It's not too late," Voldemort said with a wide smile. "Together, we can accomplish things much faster…"

Hermione was dumbstruck. _Together?_

…_Harry?_

_You're not…?_

It was then that she noticed Voldemort's wand underneath the table. It was pointing directly at Harry and emitting a soft red glow. Hermione barely stifled her gasp as she looked back at Harry. His eyes seemed cloudy and slightly unfocused.

_No._

"Harry!" Hermione cried, trying to ignore the wand jabbing into her throat. "Snap out of it!"

"It's a trap!" Ron shouted.

The Death Gobbler wrenched her arm up, making her scream.

"Hermione, stay quiet!" Neville gasped as his captor began strangling him. "Ron!"

Ginny hadn't moved. She was staring at Harry's back with an unreadable expression.

"…Eradicate them," Voldemort was saying. He glanced amusedly at Ron. "All of them."

Harry nodded. "And the Ministry?"

"Abolished, of course," Voldemort said. "Their foul methods and corrupted laws have polluted the magic. We need to purify it again."

"Yes."

"Harry," Hermione whispered, almost in a sob. "Harry, please…Harry…"

She was losing him. He was entranced. He couldn't hear, couldn't see…

"A new world, Harry," Voldemort said. "Together, we can surpass the limits. There would be no boundaries. We might even find a way to defeat death, and we could find a way to bring your parents back. Would you like that?"

A strange, empty sort of smile passed across Harry's face. "Actually, Tom," he said, "I would."

––––––

Tom smiled widely. "Yes, yes, of course…"

Harry nodded. "But first," he said, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly, "I would rather you let them go."

Tom's eyes flashed for a brief moment; it was the only indication that he was annoyed – surprised? – that his spell hadn't worked. "Why yes," he said obligingly. He nodded and the three Death Eaters holding Ron, Hermione, and Neville released their hostages.

"Thank you," Harry said.

"And now, if you would…"

"Why are you in such a hurry?" Harry asked quietly. "We have plenty of time. And you're not finished yet."

"Not finished?" Tom asked.

"Well, that could be my fault," Harry said agreeably. "I didn't make myself clear, did I? What I meant was…let them _all _go."

Tom gestured at Ron and Hermione. "But I thought I did," he said.

"Let her go, Tom," Harry said softly.

There was silence.

"I see," Tom said slowly, "that I have underestimated you, Harry. It seems that you have…grown."

"Let her go."

Tom shook his head. "I'm afraid that's one request I must refuse."

Harry smiled. "It wasn't a request, Tom."

Tom's eyes narrowed. "It wasn't, was it?" he whispered.

"No," Harry said. "It wasn't."

"Then I must…disregard your command," Tom said delicately.

Chains suddenly appeared, binding Harry to the chair. At the same time, a knife appeared in the hand of the Death Eater that held Ginny.

Hermione sharply sucked in her breath.

"A Muggle's death," Tom said softly, "for a Muggle lover. Fitting, wouldn't you say?"

Neville was barely able to catch Ron's arm and restrain him.

"I'm not giving you a choice this time," Tom whispered. "You _are _going to watch her die, Harry."

The chair slowly spun until Harry was facing Ginny.

He picked his head up and gazed into her eyes. Saw the pain, the struggle to smile. The will to believe, the overwhelming fear. Conflicting.

"She's going to die, Harry. She's going to scream. She's going to beg to be killed. And you'll have to sit here and watch…_every single moment."_

Tom must have given his signal, because the Death Eater raised the knife toward Ginny's throat.

The fear in her eyes was plain now. Her face paled. She squeezed her eyes shut as the knife touched her throat.

Her lips moved soundlessly. _Harry…_

"I'll only say it one more time, Tom," Harry whispered, staring intently at the knife as if it would disappear if he willed it enough. "Let. Her. Go."

Tom moved forward so that Harry could just see him out of the corner of his eye. He had a twisted, grotesque smile on his face.

"Say goodbye, Harry."

"_Let…"_

Hermione screamed. Ron bellowed.

"_Her…"_

The knife flashed.

"_GO!"_

The house exploded.

­––––––

"Godric's Hollow, second street!" Mad-Eye shouted, sending his chair flying as he stood up. _"Move!"_

Kingsley didn't bother to stand up. He Apparated straight from where he'd been sitting on the couch in Minerva's office.

Remus materialized in front of him as Godric's Hollow swirled into view. Tonks, Mad-Eye, and Sturgis appeared to his right, while Blackthorn, Drake, Bill, and Charlie turned up to his left.

They stood before an empty plot of land.

"What?" Sturgis said incredulously. "Where…?"

"It was an illusion!" Mad-Eye growled, spinning around. "It must have been destroyed!"

"So where are they?"

"Never mind that," Drake said grimly. "We've got a _lot _of company coming."

Cloaked and masked figures began whirling into view all around them, filling up the town. And behind them, tall, hooded figures with rotting hands and rattling breaths came gliding up, blotting out what little light there was.

Kingsley grimaced as the cold swept in around him. "Aurors?"

"Less than five minutes," Tonks said through gritted teeth.

"Think we can last?"

Tonks raised her wand. "We have to."

––––––

Harry ducked as a jet of red light went sizzling over his head. "Have you lost your touch?" he taunted as he spun around another spell and retaliated. "Getting soft with all your Death Eaters doing your dirty work for you? Or is having only one-seventh of a soul impairing your abilities?"

Tom vanished with a swirl of his cloak and reappeared behind Harry. _"Crucio!"_

"Resorting to dirty tricks already?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. He flicked his wand and a pile of rubble flew up to form a wall in front of him. It shattered as it took the brunt of the spell. "That's no fun at all."

Their wands flashed and sparks flew as they dueled, exchanging blows faster than Harry could keep track of. Sometimes their spells would collide, connecting their wands for brief moments.

_Interesting, _Harry mused as a jet of orange light glanced off his shield and careened into the night. _The magic is still inclined to connect, even though I'm using Remus' wand._

He could hear the sounds of fighting throughout the rest of the town; he had warned Remus that Death Eaters would be arriving shortly before midnight, and it appeared that Remus had in turn alerted the Ministry's entire staff of Aurors.

Harry suddenly found himself at the edge of the town near the cemetery. Tom noticed it, too; he began inching toward the graveyard as they both continued to duck and weave around each other's spells.

The gate to the cemetery clanged shut.

"I hate fighting in cemeteries," Harry said. "I've begun to get sick of them, actually."

Tom hissed between his teeth. He sent a barrage of curses at Harry, who barely raised a shield in time to block them. He took a step backward as the shield shattered; he stumbled over a tree root and went down.

Tom materialized overhead with an evil smile on his face. He raised his wand.

Harry lashed out with his feet and caught him in the groin. Tom doubled over in pain, casting a quick shield around himself as Harry threw a hex at him before rolling away.

"Still a man, I see," Harry called.

Tom's face twisted in a snarl of fury. "You've taken everything from me, Harry Potter," he hissed. "In return of the favor, I will take everything from you."

"I dare you, Tom," Harry said, sending two discs of yellow light spinning at him. He managed to dodge one, but the other sliced through his cloak. "I dare you to try it again."

"You don't care if she dies?"

"Don't you?"

"Me?" Tom snorted, slashing the air with his wand. "Why should I care?"

Harry made a similar slashing movement, and the two spells crashed into each other with a bang. "Because she is the world to me," Harry said quietly.

"And if I kill her," Tom said maliciously, "it will break you."

"No. You still don't understand, Tom. You still haven't figured out what I'm fighting for yet." Harry waved his wand in a circle before him and drew two vertical lines through it. The symbol glowed and hung in the air for a moment before dissipating. "I fight for the future. My future, her future, our future, my friends' future, the world's future. For what we can have once you're gone. You're right – she is everything I live for and everything I'd die for. It's true you could kill her, but then there won't be anything holding me back. Because I'd have nothing more to lose."

"I've had enough of your pretty words, Potter," Tom snarled. "Seventeen wasted years over a worthless little _boy. _This is the _end. __AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

Harry smiled grimly as the Killing Curse burst from Tom's wand. He raised his own and took a deep breath. _"EXPELLIARMUS!"_

––––––

"The dementors are closing in!" Remus yelled. It was now impossible to move around without stepping in blood or on the bodies strewn over the ground. Nearly all the Death Eaters had been defeated, but now the dementors that had been hanging back were moving swiftly forward. _"Expecto Patronum!"_

Ron, Neville, Hermione, and Ginny stood together farther down the street. They were closer to the incoming dementors and already seemed to be suffering from the cold.

"Happy thoughts!" Ron shouted desperately. "Happy thoughts!"

He and the others raised their wands. As one, they roared, _"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

Four huge, full Patronuses burst out of their wands and charged the dementors. Together with Kingsley's, Tonks', and Remus' Patronuses, they began pushing the hooded figures back out of the town. They were eventually driven away entirely, leaving the area eerily still and quiet.

"Look," Kingsley whispered, pointing past Remus' shoulder.

Remus turned around – and stared.

A gigantic, golden dome rose into the sky. It was just beyond the cemetery where Lily and James were buried.

"W-What is it?" Ron gasped as he came running up.

"They're inside," Ginny breathed. She was holding her left arm pressed close to her chest, and her sleeve was soaked in blood. "They're fighting inside that thing."

Indeed, they could hear thunderous bangs and blasts echoing like gongs into the night. There were occasional flashes of light that penetrated the golden dome and pierced the dark sky.

"There's nothing we can do," Remus said tightly. He felt like his heart had frozen inside his chest.

"Ginny, come here," Tonks said softly. She tapped Ginny's arm with her wand. "That should be good for now."

Ginny nodded her thanks and turned her gaze back to the dome.

Seconds…minutes… Nearly an hour passed by, and the fighting inside the dome seemed to have become more intense, if anything. By now, all of the Aurors and Medi-Wizards had congregated in the village square with them to watch the glowing golden dome. Remus absently let a Medi-Wizard check him over; his eyes never left the dome.

And then it was silent.

Kingsley stared, awe-struck. He asked the question flashing through everybody's minds. "Is it over?" he whispered into the silent night.

The dome exploded.

* * *

Up Next: Complications. Voldemort doesn't die _that _easily, after all. 

We're sorry if this chapter didn't make sense. We completely made stuff up as we went. And we're aware that we have three days to finish six chapters, so…yeah. The worst thing is that we started a three-week all-day camp on Sunday that runs from eight in the morning until ten thirty at night, which leaves nearly no room to write. So we'll go as fast as we can and attempt to finish this by…Saturday. Ha ha. :)


	22. Shades of Gray

Well, we obviously didn't make our deadline. Around these parts, DH is being released...right now, actually. :P We still have six chapters to go after this one, but we're guessing that even this one won't be read by most of you until after you've finished DH. So...we'd just like to say that everything we've written and are planning to write was outlined _before _DH came out. If _anything _we write in later chapters coincides with the plot of DH, we swear on Merlin's white beard that we did _not _take it from the book.

Anyway.

* * *

**Shades of Gray **– "_You were always so simple, Potter. The lot of you. Your father, your mother, even Dumbledore. You see the world as black and white. Good and evil. But nothing in the world is like that. It's all gray. Just different shades of gray."_

_"So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted…I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into her…"_ _– Tom Riddle, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_

It felt like the world as he knew it was coming to an end. Caught in the center of the whirlwind, he could only crouch down low to the ground and cover his head with his hands. He didn't know what was happening or how to stop it. The two spells had connected as he had anticipated, and a golden dome of magic had woven itself around them. Neither of them could leave the dome until the spell he had to cast to create it was broken; in this way, he had made sure that the others wouldn't get caught in their battle.

Bound by their wands, they had struggled against each other for minute after exhausting minute. The magic had taken its toll on the both of them; their reactions and movements slowed considerably, and there were times where they barely avoided death through sheer luck.

They would have both collapsed from exhaustion if they had kept going. Which was why he had finally played his trump card.

It was based on two spells, one of which was relatively simple by itself. He had been able to do it for years. But cast behind more powerful magic, such as the kind used to bond two wands, it could create a force of "epic proportions."

The description certainly seemed apt.

Dirt and grass was whipped up around him and sent whirling through the air like a tornado. All he could hear was Tom's endless scream, together with the deafening howl of the wind.

_Together we could have – _

– _wasted years_

_Taken everything_

_Gone gone_

Pressure began building in his head. Tom's scream escalated above the roaring winds, filling his ears and his mind and

_kill you Potter –_

_watch her die_

_Everything_

– _A new world for _

threatening to drag him down, overwhelm him and drown him in the sound…

_purify the magic_

_Tainted fouled_

_Enough games – _

_DIE!_

"NO!" Harry bellowed, propelling himself up to face the wind and flinging his arms out wide. "_I WILL NOT DIE!_"

Tom stopped screaming, and the storm gradually died down. Harry's arms dropped to his sides; he no longer had the strength to keep them up. He fell to his hands and knees, breathing heavily between bouts of coughing that ripped through his throat.

It had drained him. Almost completely.

…But it was over. Tom Marvolo Riddle – Lord Voldemort – was gone.

Physically, at least.

Harry forced himself to look around. The golden dome was gone, and now that the dirt had settled back down, the area seemed normal. Except, of course, for the enormous, smoldering crater in the ground before him.

Six feet across and five feet deep. The grass had been scorched away and the dirt burned and blackened. The only testimony of Lord Voldemort's death.

Harry smiled, even though he couldn't stop the world from spinning. His final thought as he fell face-down into the ground was, _The easy part is finished…_

**

* * *

**

**11 May, 1997, 8:12AM**

Harry woke up to find himself in a cottage.

He could hear the sea outside. The cool breeze from the open window beside his bed smelled of salt.

He sat bolt upright.

_The sea?_

He looked down at himself to find that he'd been stripped to the waist. He glanced around the small room and located his wand and glasses on the bedside table. Snatching up both items, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Once he had his glasses on properly, he could see that the room was roughly the size of the one he'd had in Privet Drive and even more sparsely furnished. Besides the bed and the table, there was only a wooden chair and a chest of drawers. The walls were white and bare with only one window.

He glanced over at the door; it was slightly open, dispelling his idea that he might be a prisoner in this place. Shaking his head, he stood up – and immediately had to sit back down. His head was throbbing madly.

He grimaced as he rubbed his temples.

_What the hell happened? Where am I? And who brought me here?_

Gritting his teeth, he attempted to stand up once again. The room seemed to tilt slightly, but the throbbing in his head didn't get any worse. He took a deep breath and strode toward the door.

There was no magic whatsoever that he could detect, so he pulled the door open and stepped outside. He was in a short corridor that led into a bigger room, and straight across from him was another corridor that ended in a door much like his.

The smells of sausage and eggs and the sound of sizzling aroused his curiosity. He warily walked the rest of the way out of the corridor and craned his head around the corner.

The bigger room extended about twenty feet to either side of him. The left side had been furnished as a sort of living room, while the right side seemed to act as a kitchen and dining space.

And standing in front of the stove making breakfast was Snape.

His jaw dropped as he took the last step out into the room. Snape turned around and looked at him, his expression flat and unreadable.

"Where am I? What am I doing here? And what the hell are you doing?"

"Making breakfast," Snape replied.

"_How?"_

"They're rather conventional methods, as you could tell if you used your eyes," Snape said disdainfully.

"Acquired a sense of humor now, have you?" he said caustically.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Don't be smart with me, Potter," he said softly.

"Don't play around with words, _Snape," _Harry rejoined. "And something's burning."

Snape turned back to the stove, which had begun to smoke. Harry watched him warily as he waved away the smoke and dumped some slightly burned sausages and scrambled eggs onto two plates. He carried them over to the small table by the wall, sat down, and promptly began to eat.

Harry stood watching him.

Snape finally looked up. "I went through the trouble to make this, and you're going to go through the trouble to eat it," he said. It was a glaringly obvious order.

Harry was about to say that he wasn't hungry when his stomach betrayed him by growling loudly. When he still hesitated, Snape snorted.

"If I wanted to kill you, I could have done it a long time ago."

Harry rolled his eyes and strode over to the table. He sat down across from Snape and pulled the plate of sausages and eggs toward him.

"First, tell me where we are," he said, glaring at Snape. "Godric's Hollow was nowhere near the sea."

"Well done, Potter," Snape said dryly. "One can only wonder where such intelligence stems from."

Harry took out his wand.

Snape pointedly ignored it and went back to eating. "Put that away. You're still too weak to do any magic, let alone kill me."

Harry scowled. "I'll ask you again. Where are we?"

"If I tell you, will you shut up and eat?" Snape asked irritably.

"For a while," Harry conceded.

"France."

"_France?"_

"Eat," Snape ordered as he stood up with his empty plate. He carried it back to the sink, where it proceeded to clean itself. He watched it for a moment before returning to the table.

Harry grudgingly picked up his fork and speared a sausage. He had to admit, it _smelled _good enough. He took a cautious bite.

Less than five minutes later, the plate had been scraped clean. Snape flicked it into the sink as Harry wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Going to talk now?" he asked.

"Yes, and so are you," Snape replied. "I answer your questions and you answer mine. Deal?"

"What, you're forgoing the torture and opting for fair play?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

Snape gazed coldly at him.

Harry sighed. "Fair enough."

"I believe I answered your first question," Snape said. "We are in the south coast of France. There's a small Muggle village nearby that can provide us with supplies. As for your second question, you are here because I brought you here."

"Why? When?" Harry demanded. "Why didn't the Aurors stop you?"

"They arrived only moments after I did, but they couldn't touch me as long as I had hold of you," Snape said. "I told them you had succeeded, and that I was taking you."

"They just let you go?"

He shrugged. "They didn't have much of a choice, did they?"

"But that doesn't explain why. You murdered Dumbledore in cold blood. You betrayed his trust and the Order of the Phoenix. You're a goddamn _Death Eater." _Harry shoved his chair away from the table and stood up. He began pacing angrily across the floor. "You produced a Patronus. You told me that Tom was going to be at Godric's Hollow but not why. Tom didn't know it was you, but he knew I was going to be there. Tom calls all his Death Eaters to fight but you, his right hand man, never shows up. Only when everything is over do you come out." Harry stopped pacing to glare at him. "Know what that reminds me of?" he asked icily. "A coward."

Snape stood up so quickly that his chair flew back into the wall. There was fury burning behind his eyes, but Harry grimly met his gaze and held it.

"What kind of game are you playing, Snape?" he whispered. "Whose side are you on?"

––––––

_Whose side are you on?_

Snape turned around and faced the wall, willing himself to calm down. It would do no good to lose his temper here, now.

"You were always so simple, Potter," Snape said softly. "The lot of you. Your father, your mother, even Dumbledore. You see the world as black and white. Good and evil. But nothing in the world is like that. It's all gray. Just different shades of gray."

"You're wrong," the boy growled. "There _is _black and white. Black – people like Tom, like Bellatrix, like Kreacher. White – people like Dumbledore, like Mrs. Weasley, like Hermione and Ron and Neville and Ginny. Maybe they aren't perfectly white; maybe they're off-color in places, tainted. But that doesn't tarnish their purity, because purity comes from the _inside."_

"Spare me your philosophies," Snape said in annoyance. "My loyalties are of no concern to you."

"Wrong again," Harry said. "I've spent the better part of my life at Hogwarts fighting Tom. And if you haven't figured it out yet, fighting Tom is a rather time-consuming activity. Tom's gone now, and my job is done. _You_ may not have anybody to go back to because this is over, but I have people that are waiting for me to come back. My friends. So tell me just what the hell you want with me, or I'm leaving."

"Trust me, Potter, I would rather live in hell than a cottage with you," Snape snapped. "But I had no choice – you are a potential threat to the world. A world Albus Dumbledore gave his life trying to protect."

"And you're all for saving it now that you've killed him, are you?" Harry spat.

Snape clenched his jaw. "Do you know, Potter?" he asked softly. "What you really are?"

There was silence.

Snape finally heard Harry move away toward the window. When he turned around, he found the boy staring out at the sea.

"I figured it out a long time ago," he said quietly. "It makes sense, doesn't it?" To Snape's surprise, he chuckled. "The ultimate revenge."

"What are you going to do?"

"Get rid of it," he said simply.

"I see."

The boy finally turned around to face him. "I don't suppose there's a way to force it out?"

He considered it for a moment. "If there is, I've never heard of it."

Harry ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Okay."

"So you know you're a Horcrux," Snape said, raising his eyebrows, "but you still want to go back to your friends?"

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "It started manifesting itself as I destroyed the Horcruxes. At first it felt like there was so much power in me that I wouldn't be able to control it. But it's balanced, now, with my own soul. It can't take over."

"So what?" Snape said. "You're going to live with it?"

"That's why I've been trying to find a way to expel it, transfer it to something else," Harry said in frustration. "There's _nothing."_

They were both silent. Snape had known for quite some time, of course; it had been one of Dumbledore's worst fears. But he had never been quite sure whether the Dark Lord had been aware of it. Lord Voldemort had never intended for Harry Potter to become a Horcrux. All the Potters had been supposed to die that night.

Harry sighed. "So…what have you been doing until now? Why did you tell me he was going to be at Godric's Hollow?"

Snape snorted. "Those who knew of the Horcruxes knew you were destroying them. The Dark Lord was always brooding, always in a foul mood. I was merely biding my time. You saw how he was; the anger and paranoia consumed him, and added to the destruction of his soul, it drove him mad. He lost his power, his focus.

"I was with Draco until I sent him into hiding yesterday. The Dark Lord killed Lucius and Narcissa."

Harry's expression never changed. "Bellatrix?"

"Gone," Snape shrugged. "Disappeared two days ago. I suppose the Dark Lord sent her away. Merlin knows where she is or what she's doing."

Harry clenched his fists and turned away. "You don't care?"

"About the Dark Lord? No. You want to know whose side I'm on? No one's. I owe loyalty to no one but myself. That's how it has always been."

Harry shook his head and took a step away from him.

"We're not done," Snape said. "I answered your questions. Now you answer mine."

"What do you want to know?" Harry asked tightly.

"…How did you kill him?"

Harry paused for a moment before answering. "Patronus Charm."

"The _Patronus Charm?" _Snape asked incredulously. The Dark Lord had been defeated by a _Patronus Charm?_

"Although it's most commonly used against dementors, the Patronus is, in its basic form, a weapon against the Dark Arts," Harry recited flatly. "I used it with a Binding Spell."

"A _Binding Spell?" _Snape repeated in disbelief. "You performed a _Binding Spell?" _Binding Spells were a category unto themselves; they were considered to be Legendary or Ancient Spells in modern times because they were so complex that no one had been able to cast one since Merlin's time. And casting one in combination with a Patronus Charm created an almost unstoppable force of pure energy that made the Killing Curse seem like a bee sting. The last few wizards that had managed to live long enough to cast this combination spell hadn't survived the aftereffects. They had died of sheer exhaustion and magic depletion.

"Takes loads of practice," Harry said dryly.

Snape could only stare at him.

"If that's all you're going to ask, I have one more question," Harry said. "How long do you intend to keep me here?"

"I…I don't know," Snape said softly. _A Binding Spell… He's much…_much _stronger than I thought…_ "Until we can destroy the Horcrux. Or until we can confirm that it will remain dormant."

"We?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.

Snape snorted and turned away. "I work for my benefit and my benefit only. It just so happens that this will benefit you, too."

"Who says I'm going to stay here with you?"

"You can't do it on your own, and you can never be entirely sure that you'll be harmless."

"So we're going to work together."

"Make no mistake, Potter. I still hate you."

Harry smiled wryly. "That works out, because I still think you're a greasy git." He turned back and strode toward his room, but before he stepped over the threshold of the door, he half-turned back. "…But I'd still like to say thank you."

* * *

**19 May, 1997, 11:48AM**

The cottage stood on a cliff over the sea. It was a surprisingly peaceful, beautiful place; Harry often wondered how Snape had come across it, but he had never found the opportunity to ask. There was a small garden behind the cottage that provided a few vegetables, but they mostly acquired supplies from the nearby village. The villagers, being Muggles, had been friendly and generous so far. Harry also didn't question how Snape knew fluent French.

They had been researching Horcruxes and souls relentlessly for the past week. It turned out that there was a lower level to the cottage that had been built underground some forty odd years ago, which was completely filled with books. There was an entire section devoted to magic dealing with souls. So far, they hadn't come across anything notable.

Harry sighed as he stared out across the sea. Snape was inside making lunch; having agreed that neither was the best cook, they had decided to take turns preparing meals each day.

He missed Ron and Hermione. He missed Remus and Tonks. He missed Kingsley and Sturgis and Mad-Eye and the Weasleys. He missed Hogwarts.

And he missed Ginny.

He had neither sent mail nor received any. It was better that they didn't know where he was. They knew he was alive, and that was enough.

He shook his head. Nothing good ever came of brooding, and there was a stack of books waiting for him after lunch. As he turned away from the edge of the cliff, he suddenly caught sight of something zooming toward the cottage from the opposite direction. The small brown blur shot down through the air, zipped past Harry's shoulder, did a quick turn and rocketed back past him over his other shoulder. It crashed through the open window and apparently hit something, because Snape cursed loudly.

_An owl?_

Harry hurried back inside. The owl was perched on the windowsill, looking slightly dazed. Snape was standing in front of the stove, a forgotten pot of soup vigorously bubbling away. He had just untied the note from the owl's leg and was in the process of unfolding it.

"Who's it from?" Harry asked.

Snape didn't answer. His face turned ashen as he scanned the note.

Harry stepped toward him, a strange sense of panic welling inside his chest. "What happened?" he demanded. "Who's it from?"

Snape wordlessly held the note out to him. Harry snatched it and read it quickly, his heart pounding in his ears.

_Bring Harry back to Hogwarts._

_Ginny's sick._

* * *

**19 May, 1997, 11:56AM**

Harry's mind raced as he impatiently waited for Snape to get ready.

_Ginny's sick._

They wouldn't have contacted Snape unless it was serious. _Very _serious. Now that he thought about it, he never really found out whether everyone had survived the battle at Godric's Hollow. Ginny could have gotten hurt. She could have been ill all this time, getting worse and worse until…

He shook his head roughly.

"Are you ready?" Snape asked as he emerged from his room. He closed the door behind him and approached Harry.

He jerked his head in a nod.

"Then let's go."

Snape hadn't asked any questions. They had decided to leave on unspoken agreement.  
"Apparate?"

"Yes."

"Into Hogwarts?"

"You can do that?" Snape asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Harry said, and put a hand on Snape's shoulder.

––––––

**19 May, 1997, 11:58AM  
****Hogwarts**

Harry and Snape materialized in the corridor outside the Hospital Wing. Hermione jumped to her feet as soon as she saw them.

"Harry!" she cried, running toward him. "You're all right!"

Harry looked around as she flung her arms around his neck. Ron, Bill, Remus, and Tonks slowly got to their feet. Ron looked like he was in a state of shock, while Bill and Remus were glaring at Snape. Tonks' face was streaked with tears, but it wasn't enough to mask the fury in her eyes at the sight of Snape.

Hermione finally released him and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "Harry – "

"Where's Ginny?" Harry demanded, striding toward the doors of the Hospital Wing. "What's wrong with her?"

Remus' voice stopped him. "Harry, wait…"

He whipped around. "What's wrong with her?" he repeated angrily. "Why's she sick? What the hell happened?"

Remus couldn't meet his eyes. "She…"

"She just collapsed, yesterday," Bill said quietly. "Had a seizure of some sort. She's burning up and nothing can wake her, but she keeps saying your name, over and over again. That's why we called you."

Harry turned on his heel and strode through the doors of the Hospital Wing.

Ginny was lying on the first bed to his left. A sheet had been pulled up to her chin. Her eyes were closed, but her face was covered in perspiration and she looked as if she were in extreme pain.

_Sweet Merlin._

Madam Pomfrey and Charlie stood up from where they'd been sitting by her side.

"Harry – "

"What's wrong with her?" he whispered as he approached her bed. He could hear now that she was moaning softly, her lips moving soundlessly…but he swore he could hear her calling his name…

He reached out and touched her cheek. Her skin was hot to the touch. "What's wrong with her?" he asked again, his voice breaking.

Snape, Hermione, Ron, Bill, Remus, and Tonks had followed him inside. They all stood around the foot of Ginny's bed with the exception of Snape, who hung back in the shadows beside the door.

Remus and Madam Pomfrey exchanged worried glances. "The symptoms…" he hesitated.

"A Healer from St. Mungo's came last night," Madam Pomfrey said nervously. Harry had never seen her look so distressed. "He…"

"Tell me it's not true, Harry," Bill whispered, almost pleadingly. "Tell me it's not true…"

"What's not true?" Harry asked, his fear slowly turning into anger.

"Harry, Ginny is… She has…" Remus took a deep breath. "She's a…Horcrux."

Harry's heart froze inside his chest, and then it felt like all the heat in the room gathered around it, burning him in the middle. He stared at Remus, willing to give up anything in the world to believe that he had misunderstood.

"We saw it," Charlie whispered. "For a moment. Her eyes. They weren't hers."

"She's fighting it," Remus said softly, looking sadly at Ginny.

"The only thing we can't figure out," Tonks said quietly, "is _how."_

Harry felt like he had stepped out of the world.

Remus' words still echoed in his mind.

_She's…_

_She's a…Horcrux._

_Ginny._

_How?_

_How could Tom…?_

It struck him.

_The Chamber of Secrets._

"_So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted…I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into her…"_

_My soul…_

_Into her…_

Harry stared down at Ginny, horrorstruck.

"No," he whispered.

* * *

Up Next: Tensions mount and tempers start to flare as the Boy Who Lived faces the prospect of becoming the Boy Who Became Possessed. Is Snape going to be of any help?

We really didn't read this one over at all, so sorry if anything's messed up. Now we don't get our copies of DH until tomorrow, so NO SPOILERS! Well...come to think of it, you'll probably all be too busy fainting over whatever's happened in DH to pay much attention to our story for a while. And on that note, since this story was originally scheduled to be finished before DH was published, we don't see much point in finishing it now that it's out. ...What we're really trying to say is that we need feedback. For real. Either we're going to keep going with this or not, and that all depends on you. We're not wasting time writing stuff no one's going to read. So...yeah. Hope to hear from all of you soon, and happy reading!

Cheers! - The Fat Chipmunk and jynkyg :)


	23. Without A Fight

Welcome back! Sorry it took so long to get this one up. We had to split it into two chapters, so there are still six left instead of five. Anyway...how did you like DH? Personally, we thought it was the worst of the series. JKR could have done much better. But then again, we both read it in under six hours, so we should probably read it again slowly... But tell us what you think!

* * *

**Without A Fight**

**23 May, 1997, 9:52PM  
Hogwarts**

_Tell me there's a way._

He stood outside the doors and kept pacing across the floor, and then sat against the wall in the dark and stared at his hands. Those two things seemed to be all he could manage, and he wondered if it would be that way forever. It was hard to imagine that he could ever manage more than that – just waiting, looking down, looking at the emptiness of his hands, and sometimes saying her name.

The days since he and Snape had come back seemed to have blurred together. It seemed that it had been a different lifetime in which he had fought Tom Riddle. He couldn't think straight, couldn't focus on anything but the fact that _Ginny was sick._

Hermione and the Weasley brothers took turns sitting at her bedside. He stayed there himself for hours, or until he couldn't bear to look at her anymore. Even now, he couldn't get the image of her lying there, pale and helpless and haggard, out of his head. He thought that he wouldn't mind having to fight Tom again – or even a thousand times over – if that meant she would wake up and smile at him and not be sick anymore.

_Powerful enough…to start pouring a little of my soul back into her…_

_You've taken everything from me, Harry Potter. In return of the favor, I will take everything from you._

Had Tom known all along? Was this what he had meant? Or had fate just turned on him at the last moment?

_There has to be a way._

All members of the Order were currently in the Great Hall, still poring over the hundreds of available resources on souls and Horcruxes they'd pulled from the library and the Order's private collections. They had been on it for nearly four days now, trying to find even the merest mention of how to dispose of soul splinters.

Word had spread to the students, too, of course. He had thought, at first, that they'd all been sent home because the corridors were always empty. But he now suspected that they had just been warned to leave him alone. At any rate, he hadn't seen much of them. He had only recently learned that Neville and Dean had gotten the PA together yet again to help with the research.

It appeared that they had also gotten wind of Snape's return; Remus had questioned him about the man's loyalties only several hours after he had arrived. The only thing he remembered telling Remus was that Snape was, for the moment, an ally. Remus seemed to believe him somewhat, but McGonagall had decided to keep Snape locked in a separate room anyway. Harry had only learned of this the day before; he had immediately demanded that Snape be released and permitted to leave.

Of course, Snape surprised the entire Order by choosing to stay at Hogwarts. By choosing to help.

Harry had expected it.

_I work for my benefit and my benefit only. It just so happens that this will benefit you, too._

He believed it – Severus Snape was that kind of man. Independent. But he didn't understand it. How had killing Dumbledore benefited him? How would making sure he and Ginny didn't remain Horcruxes help him? What did he _want?_

But those kinds of questions made his head hurt, and he already had enough pain to deal with. He knew he wasn't being of any help, sitting here lost and wallowing in grief, but the stack of books Remus had picked out for him had been left untouched. He couldn't concentrate; couldn't manage anything more, at the moment, than being.

* * *

**24 May, 1997, 1:31AM  
****Hogwarts**

He sat in the Hospital Wing, surrounded by darkness except for the single candle flickering on the bedside table. A thick, leather-bound book lay open on his lap. His lips moved soundlessly as his finger slid across the worn, yellowing pages.

His eyes traveled back and forth until he realized that the words had become blurry. He leaned his head back with a sigh and closed his eyes, listening to the sound of Ginny's shallow breathing beside him.

_A living body…cannot exist without a soul. In the same sense…a Horcrux cannot exist without a host. To destroy the soul is to destroy the body. To destroy the host is to destroy the Horcrux…_

_Horcruxes…were not meant to be created with living things… In the case of inferior animals, the Horcrux soul will most likely assume a parasitic role…consuming the host and allowing its creator to manipulate it…_

_Using another human being as a host is strictly forbidden… It would seem that…if the host _were _human, one of three things could happen, depending on the strength of the Horcrux soul…and the strength of the host soul…_

_One…as in the case of inferior animals, the Horcrux soul would overpower the host soul…first subjecting the host to pain surpassing that of a Cruciatus Curse; then rendering him weak and mindless, much like the victim of the Dementor's Kiss; and finally, ending in either complete control or death…_

_Two…opposite to the first case, the Horcrux soul would not be able to overpower the host soul…it would therefore remain dormant within the host, unable to move freely or influence the host's thoughts or actions…_

_And three…the rarest of cases…where the Horcrux soul and host soul balance each other…resulting in a blending of traits of both souls… It cannot be discerned whether this would cause the host pain, or how long this balance could be maintained…_

The sound of the door opening cut through his thoughts. His eyes flew open as his hand instinctively jumped to his wand. Light from the corridor came spilling into the room, illuminating the figure standing in the doorway.

"Potter."

He let go of his wand. "Snape."

Snape took a step forward. There was a book clutched in his hand. Harry couldn't see the expression on his face, but the way he was standing seemed tense.

They were silent for a moment. Then,

"How is she?"

Harry frowned, startled that Snape would ask such a question without the usual sarcasm. _Concerned about the welfare…of a Weasley? _But Snape's face was still in shadow, and Harry could discern nothing.

He looked away. "Same," he mumbled.

_Subjecting the host…to pain surpassing that of a Cruciatus Curse…_

"And you?"

He shrugged, and it felt exhausting. "Tired," he said quietly. "Just…tired."

"You should sleep," Snape said. There was still no hint of sarcasm or mockery; it was nothing more than a simple suggestion. Harry couldn't get his head around the fact that this was the same Snape that had murdered Dumbledore in cold blood.

He shook his head wordlessly. Closing the book on his lap, he set it on the table beside the candle and changed the subject. "I heard they locked you up," he said.

There was a delicate snort. "Cozy place, the dungeons."

"At least it was old territory."

"Yes, I felt right at home," Snape said dryly.

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Are you…okay?"

"Fine," Snape replied, rather stiffly.

"Why didn't you run?" he asked. "Before they locked you up, I mean."

To his surprise, there was no snappy rejoinder. When Snape finally spoke, it was in a voice so soft that Harry thought he had imagined it.

"I deserved it."

In another time, there would have been a million things he could have said to this. Now, he could only nod. Without pressing it further, he changed the subject again.

"Do they speak to you?"

Another snort. "They put up with my presence because, and only because, of you. Had you not told Minerva to release me, I imagine I would not have the ability to be standing here right now."

Harry digested this in silence. _So…I saved you, by telling Remus you were our ally. You helped me, by trying to help Ginny… We're even. But still, it comes down to one question._

_What do you want?_

"Potter…" Snape said quietly. He moved forward again, closer. "There…might be a way."

Harry closed his eyes again and willed his heart to stop beating so fast. It wouldn't do any good to get his hopes up.

Another step forward. "If you can truly do a Binding Spell, you might be able to do this. It's only theory; no one has ever successfully performed something like this before."

Harry opened his eyes, feeling oddly calm. Snape was only a few paces away from him. The candlelight didn't reach far enough to light his face.

Harry took a deep breath. "Tell me."

Snape looked down at the book in his hands. "It requires the same sort of magic and energy used to cast a Binding Spell. The spell will allow you – or, rather, your soul – to temporarily vacate your body and enter hers. Once there, you would cast another spell to separate out the Horcrux soul from her soul and destroy it. It's incredibly risky, since there would be a pathway between your body and hers. And if the spells aren't performed correctly, both you and she could be destroyed."

Harry furrowed his brows. "Will separating the Horcrux soul from Ginny's hurt her? Is it like splitting your soul to create a Horcrux?"

Snape shook his head. "It didn't say. There is also a chance that the Horcrux soul has begun to integrate with hers, making it even harder to separate."

Harry was quiet. He closed his eyes again and reviewed his choices. Ginny was strong – stronger than most people he knew – but it was folly to hope that she could balance out or overpower Tom's soul splinter. Which meant she would either die or survive to become Tom's puppet…

He had to at least try. Consequences didn't matter anymore, because it was all or nothing. And he wouldn't let Ginny go without a fight.

"Think about it," Snape said softly, holding the book out to him. "The incantations are written in runes. I'll be working on them."

Harry accepted the book wordlessly and nodded his thanks.

Snape turned away from him so that Harry was staring at Snape's back.

"Potter…" he said, "I think…you can do it."

And he swept from the room.

**

* * *

****29 May, 1997, 2:27PM  
Hogwarts**

Remus set aside the book he'd been perusing and sighed. Rubbing his temples, he stared down at the parchment he'd been scribbling notes on.

"Anything?" Tonks whispered from his right.

He looked at her and shook his head. "Not a word," he replied.

Tonks put a hand on his arm and smiled encouragingly. "Don't worry. There has to be _some_thing."

Remus glanced around. They – along with the rest of the Order – were sitting at the long table in the staff room, and had been for the better part of the week. Large, dusty tomes, scraps of parchment, quills, and the remains of lunch littered their work surface. Everyone was poring over some sort of document or another, jotting down notes as they went.

"I hope so," was all he could say. The books they'd scrounged from the library and the staff's private collections were proving to be only selectively useful. Remus now knew more than he cared to about Horcruxes – the spellcasting, the complications, exactly how the soul was ripped apart and transferred, all the things that could go wrong. But there was nothing – not even a passing mention – of how to reverse the process. How to take the soul splinter back out.

Except for Snape's way, of course.

But it was too dangerous. Too risky.

The Weasley brothers, along with Hermione, sat on the other side of the table. It made Remus feel strange to see the red-heads so quiet and focused, all five of them hell-bent on saving their sister. And Hermione was in her element here; she had already filled three rolls of parchment and gone through twice as many books as the others. But that didn't change the results – they couldn't find anything either.

"I'm going to go take a walk," Remus said quietly to Tonks. "I'll be back in five minutes."

She nodded and kissed his cheek. Before he could stand up, however, the door to the staff room swung open.

"I'm going to do it," Harry said resolutely as he stepped inside.

All heads swiveled toward him; Ron and Hermione half-stood up from the bench. Remus frowned. They had seen very little of Harry over the past few days. Remus had a strong – and uneasy – suspicion that he had been planning something. Something Remus wouldn't like at all.

Harry strode to the head of the table and tossed his book down. It echoed in the silence of the room.

"Going to do what?" Mad-Eye finally asked.

_As if we don't know._

Harry didn't look at him – or any of them, not even Ron or Hermione. He was looking straight at Snape.

The ex-Death Eater sat at the end of the table, somewhat detached from the group. Remus knew for a fact that no one in the room trusted him at all; the only reason he wasn't in Azkaban was because of Harry. Whatever had transpired between the two of them after the battle at Godric's Hollow, it seemed that there was now a semblance of respect – trust? – in the way they regarded each other.

And if Harry was willing to accept Snape, then Remus would, too – for now.

"Are you sure?" Snape asked slowly. He and Harry were gazing calmly into each other's eyes.

Harry ran a hand through his hair and looked down at his book. He stared at the worn, dog-eared cover as he spoke. "It's been eleven days. She's not getting any better. If we don't do something soon, who knows what might happen? We might be running out of time without realizing it. I wish there was another way, but the spell in that book is the only thing we've found so far."

"He's right," Kingsley said, shaking his head. "There's nothing else in any of these." He indicated the books strewn across the table.

"And the translations are finished," Sturgis added.

Remus felt Tonks cover his hand with hers. The gesture was comforting.

The eyes of all the Weasley brothers were trained on Harry. Everyone could hear their unspoken words.

_This is our sister you're dealing with, mate. If anything happens..._

"Harry…what if it goes wrong?" Hermione asked worriedly. "What if it doesn't work, or you get trapped, or – " She stopped herself, as if she were too afraid to even think of the possibilities. "I mean, it's not even a real spell, and – "

"It is," Snape said icily. Remus looked at him, as did everyone else. "It's as real a spell as the Killing Curse. It's just never been performed."

"You have the incantations?" Harry asked him.

"Harry!" Hermione said in a pleading tone.

A look of frustration passed across Harry's face. "Don't you think I've thought of all that, Hermione?" he asked her angrily. "Don't you think I know the risks? There are a million ways this could go wrong. Ginny could die, I could die, we could both die. But we're running out of time, and spending another week poring over ancient scrolls isn't going to be any better."

Harry turned back to Snape, whose expression was unreadable. "I have them," he said. "But they don't matter as much as your will and concentration."

"Don't worry about that," Harry said firmly. "If he wants to take Ginny, he'll have to get through me first."

It still amazed Remus to see Snape forgo the taunts and insults. Without a single caustic comment, he nodded slowly and picked up the roll of parchment that he'd been working on. He stood up and indicated that he and Harry should leave. "There are some things you need to know."

"Will I be ready by tomorrow night?"

Several people inhaled sharply. _Tomorrow?_

Harry ignored them.

"That depends on you," Snape said simply.

Harry nodded. "Let's go, then."

Before anyone could say anything more, they swept from the room side by side.

**

* * *

****30 May, 1997, 11:55PM  
Hogwarts**

As Tonks watched Harry converse quietly with Snape in the corner of the room, she sincerely hoped he knew what he was doing. And not just for his own sake or Ginny's, but for the sake and sanity of the man standing next to her.

Because she knew that if Remus lost Harry now, it could break him for good.

She didn't even care anymore that they were working with a Death Eater. If they could save Ginny, she would readily be willing to hear out any mad explanations he wanted to offer for Dumbledore's death. Because if this worked, then they could do the same for Harry. They could destroy the Horcruxes and be rid of You-Know-Who once and for all. The war would be over for good, and they could pick up the remains of their lives and move on.

But first, the spell had to work.

Tonks had glanced at Snape's translations yesterday and had been completely baffled. It wasn't like any spell she had ever seen or heard of; it consisted not only of spoken incantations (which looked more like an essay in a foreign language), but complicated wand movements and drawing symbols on the floor. It was all rather bemusing, and it was odd to think that Harry could do it.

He and Snape had drawn a large, shimmering circle at the foot of Ginny's bed last night. Seven candles stood at equal intervals around its border, along with strange signs that glittered and swirled around as if they were alive. It reminded Tonks of some sort of ritual of a pagan cult; but then again, it _was _an ancient spell.

And since Snape had forbade any other sources of light, the glow the circle emitted was the only light they had in the Hospital Wing.

Harry had assured everyone that it was safe to walk on and touch, but Tonks still steered well clear of it. In fact, the only people who had even dared to approach it were Harry and Snape.

Hermione and the Weasley family sat around Ginny's bed, watching the poor girl with miserable expressions and stroking her damp forehead. They would occasionally look at Harry and the magic circle, which threw dark shadows on their faces.

Minerva was also there, having left Flitwick in charge of the school and the students. Classes had been cancelled again, since everyone had somehow gotten word of what Harry was going to attempt and would be much too worried about the fates of two of their fellow classmates to think about their studies.

Kingsley, Sturgis, and Mad-Eye stood guard by the door, while Madam Pomfrey had positioned herself in the doorway of her office.

It was another minute before Harry and Snape finally emerged from the shadows. There was only unyielding determination in Harry's eyes; Snape was, as always, expressionless. He stopped in front of the glowing circle while Harry approached the Weasleys. It was so quiet in the room that everyone could hear them.

Hermione got up first and hugged him fiercely. "Be careful," she said whispered.

"We know you love her, mate," Ron said quietly. "We trust you." Behind him, his brothers nodded.

Molly stood up from her chair. She embraced Harry and kissed him on the forehead. Her cheeks shone with tears. "Please," she said in a broken whisper.

Harry hugged her back. "Don't worry."

Molly bowed her head and allowed Arthur to lead her away from her daughter's bed.

Alone now, Harry looked down at Ginny's pale face. He ran his fingers through her hair and caressed her hollow cheeks.

Snape shifted as he watched; he looked impatient.

_There's the real Snape, _Tonks thought dryly.

After a long moment, Harry bent down and gently kissed Ginny. He then turned away from her as if it was the hardest thing he had ever done. But he looked more determined than ever as he returned to Snape's side. They whispered something to each other, and Snape nodded.

Before Harry stepped into the circle, he glanced over at Remus and smiled, ever so slightly.

Tonks looked up to see him smile back.

The symbols seemed to glow brighter as Harry set foot inside the circle. It was deathly silent in the room as he drew his wand. Tonks reckoned she could feel the air in the room shift, as if reacting to his presence.

He closed his eyes and began chanting the incantations in a low, steady voice. He waved his wand in intricate patterns as he did so, leaving wispy silver trails in the air around him.

"_Estacus coderum torzi…"_

Something seemed to build up as Harry continued to cast the spell. It was almost as if he was creating some sort of force field around himself; Tonks got the impression that she was being pushed back toward the wall. Even Snape seemed to be farther from Harry than before.

"…_horbrius sancto icari firum…"_

The circle began to glow a deep blue. Its eerie light made Harry seem like he was under a spotlight, and an unseen wind whipped up his robes. His voice escalated gradually, as if someone had cast a Sonorus Charm on him. The words of the spell vibrated through Tonks' body.

"…_graderio wadi exportum torvorus…"_

The worries Hermione had voiced before suddenly struck her all at once, threatening to overwhelm her. _What if it goes wrong, what if something happens, what if he gets trapped, what if she dies, what if You-Know-Who wins, what if Snape is wrong, what if this is the end, what if what if what if… _Harry was bellowing now, and sparks flew from the end of his wand.

"…_dracorum pilosi cantadilum quarut… SORTIUX EXPELLIUM!"_

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. And when the light burst out, it came not from Harry's wand, but from his body. She heard someone scream, felt Remus' hand grip hers painfully.

She squeezed her eyes shut against the blinding flash; Remus pulled her down against the wall, and they huddled against each other. There was a forceful _whoosh _of air that nearly bowled her over and whipped around the rest of the room like a tornado.

Remus gripped her tighter, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. She buried her face in his chest and whispered prayers to whoever would listen.

_Please, let it stop. Please, let him be all right. Please…no more pain. _

The wind stopped so suddenly that Tonks forgot to breathe for a moment. She carefully pulled away from Remus to find that the room was pitch-black. She heard Remus' breathing become frantic.

_Light. Need light!_

She took out her wand with a shaking hand and pointed it to where she hoped Harry was. _"L-Lumos!"_

It was not such a good idea; the sudden beam of light only blinded her again. Gasps from around the room told her it had done the same to the others.

When she could see again, she found that the circle was no longer shimmering. The symbols around its edge had stopped swirling and the candles were nothing more than puddles of wax.

And Harry was lying unconscious in the middle of it all.

* * *

That last sentence looks awkward. Anyway...review, pretty please! 

Up Next: Harry succeeds in entering Ginny's soul...but what now? How do you destroy a soul when you're _inside _one?


	24. War of Souls

Thanks for the reviews! We actually read this one over, so it shouldn't be too bad. Except for the first part, where we gave up trying to describe things coherently and find synonyms for "swirl" and "mist" after...oh, the fifth paragraph. ...And the last part, where we also gave up trying to keep Snape in character. :P

* * *

**War of Souls – **_"Courage. Intelligence. Loyalty. Cunning."_

**31 May, 1997, 12:00AM**

Harry blinked.

_Did I…make it?_

He had the impression that he had been dropped into a cloud. Everything was white – as far as he could see in any direction – and he was surrounded by wispy, silvery mist.

_This…is a soul?_

He didn't know what he'd been expecting. Something less…nondescript, maybe. Something more defining, something that would tell him that this _was _Ginny's soul and not some strange dimension.

As soon as he'd had the thought, he caught a familiar scent in the air. One he would recognize anywhere; one that set his heart at ease.

_Flowers._

His hand tightened around his wand as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

_Don't worry, Ginny._

_I'm here._

Now…what had Snape said? _'Once you have entered her soul, you must find the area in which the Dark Lord's soul has begun to take over. It should be easily distinguishable, since her soul is…relatively pure.'_

_The area…_

Hoping only that Ginny's soul was directly proportional to her size, he squared his shoulders and set off.

'_The Dark Lord's soul fragment should appear darker – almost black. If it's true that it's been dormant within her body since the incident with the diary, it may have already begun to integrate with her soul. In that case, you'll have to add another spell to the one required to separate the two.'_

He sighed as he strode steadily forward. The scenery didn't change; if it wasn't for the silvery mist brushing past him, he would've thought that he was merely walking in place. But the flowery scent remained in the air, soothing him.

'_But remember, you have to cast the Barrier Charm before you attempt anything. Otherwise, it offers an opportunity for the Dark Lord's freed soul fragment to escape into yours. But not even the Barrier Charm offers complete protection, so be careful.'_

A smile tugged at Harry's lips; it had been faintly amusing to hear Snape tell him to be careful. In fact, this entire thing was rather ludicrous. Here he was, wandering around inside someone's soul – _Ginny's, _no less – in search of a splinter of Tom's soul.

It had been little less than a year since Dumbledore had died. Since he had seen Snape push Draco aside and brandish his own wand at the Headmaster. Since he had watched Dumbledore get blasted off the Astronomy Tower.

The grief of that moment, and of the following weeks, had been nearly unbearable. The anger and resentment he had felt at the world for thrusting an impossible task upon him; the self-pity he had wallowed in, at having to abandon Ginny and Hogwarts and all the comforts of a semi-normal life; the bitterness of not having a choice, a say in anything that happened – everything about his fate had made him want to simply drop dead.

And the fear – there had always been the fear. Fear of failure, of disappointment, of death.

But it had turned out that defeating Tom wasn't the hard part. The Dark Dork had ensured his own death when he had threatened Ginny. Harry still wasn't sure about Dumbledore's words – that love was the most powerful magic of all – but he had found that it was definitely a great motivator.

No – the hard part was getting rid of Tom's influence, on both the people he loved and the world.

'…_I'll only ask you one last time. Are you sure you want to do this? Even with the power that you have, it will be very…difficult to cast these spells. And to destroy the Dark Lord's soul fragment afterwards will require even more strength, not to mention getting back out of her soul.'_

As he had sat gazing at her pallid face, he had finally understood what he had put Ginny through over the past year. He had never thought it was possible to feel such anguish, terror, emptiness… Simply said, she had put dementors to shame.

And now, he fully appreciated her faith, her strength…and most of all, her love.

'_Even if I do succeed, it won't be nearly enough to repay her for everything she's done for me. I will die for her, if that's what it takes.'_

The scent of flowers seemed to get stronger. He slowed his pace and began surveying his surroundings more keenly. The silvery mist brushing past him felt more tangible; was it just him, or had everything gotten a shade darker?

_'The soul fragment will sense your presence long before you sense _it's _presence. And__ because your soul is stronger, it will immediately seek to enter your soul… It is of strict necessity that you perform the spells at even the slightest indication of the presence of the Horcrux. If it really is there, it will react to the spells. If not, nothing will happen and you should abandon the casting as soon as possible.'_

Frowning, he looked back over his shoulder. The expanse before him was _definitely _a shade darker than the area he had just walked through. But did that really mean anything? Was the Horcrux soul nearby? His wand hand twitched; he wanted to begin casting the spells, but if he was wrong he would only end up wasting energy…

He sighed. He'd just have to keep walking and see what came up ahead.

Keeping his wand at the ready, he resumed his normal pace. Nothing else had changed, except the fact that there suddenly seemed to be a rock in his left shoe. It pricked his toe every time he put his weight on it. He tried to ignore it; he didn't have time to waste. But after several more steps, it became too much.

With a grunt of frustration, he looked down –

To find that the toe of his shoe was wrapped in a thick film of – _blackness._

_Shit!_

He cursed himself for his idiocy as he tried to kick his shoe off, but it seemed to have become stuck. A tiny flame of panic flickered to life inside his chest as the blackness steadily spread over his shoe. He jabbed his wand at it, but the words to the spells had suddenly fled from his mind.

_Calm. Calm down._

'_If the soul fragment goes for you, cast the Barrier Charm first. Then perform the Severing Spell; it should be easier in this situation since the soul fragment will have begun to detach itself from her soul in order to attach to yours.'_

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He could feel his hand shaking.

"_T-Teori conjurus, agarum deiro…"_

He gritted his teeth as he fought off a wave of nausea. It certainly didn't _feel _easy, and he shuddered to think what it would have been like if the soul fragment hadn't decided to go after him.

He began to feel much better the instant he completed the Barrier Charm. It also seemed to be repelling the blackness on his shoe.

_Severing Spell. Severing Spell._

"_Fracturus cordeum indorsi beni…"_

It was hard to concentrate on the spell; he had never seen anything quite like what was happening around him. Strands of dark mist were slowly drawn out from the grayness of his surroundings, leaving behind the pure white mist he had first encountered. This white mist began collecting around his ankles and made its way up his legs and around his waist, while the darker mist condensed into an amorphous glob before him.

'_If you succeed in separating the Dark Lord's soul from hers, it will appear completely black. It may take on some kind of form – rather like a black Patronus. It is most dangerous in this state; it will attempt to control you as you cast the final spell. During this time, you must _not lose your focus. _Do you understand? Concentrate on the spell, and it should not be able to penetrate your defenses.'_

The black film on his shoe was pulled off and sucked into the writhing, pulsing mass, as if by a vacuum. More dark mist – as well as white mist – floated in from far corners.

As the blackness that was Tom's soul fragment grew bigger, a thin tendril was extended from the roiling mass toward him. He instantly felt colder as another wave of nausea rolled over him.

Beads of sweat formed on his brow. The white mist had covered his torso now, and was swirling down his arms. He barely knew what he was saying; only that the words steadily came forth. Silky threads of golden light had begun streaming from his wand, forming a web around him and the black soul. The black tendril twisted and coiled around itself as it neared the tip of his wand.

The white mist had reached his wand hand. It was warm and comforting as it brushed over his skin; it continued to wind down around his wand.

The black soul thrashed inside the golden web. He watched in fear and apprehension as the tendril – much thicker now – strained toward his mist-shrouded wand.

Bursts of blackness flashed across his field of vision. His legs were trembling, as well as his hands. His scar prickled. He could scarcely feel the white mist gently swirl around his neck and over his face.

And then the mist touched his burning scar, and there was a sudden warmth that filled him. A brilliance that made his heart well up, a sense of utter peace that made him want to cry for the sheer beauty of it.

_The core of a soul…containing the essence of the being, filled with the purest and strongest of emotions…_

There was a roaring in his ears beyond the tranquility, a rushing howl that steadily grew in volume until it drowned out all other senses. He looked down at his wand and was horrified to see that the black tendril was only a hair away from connecting with his wand –

The golden web thrummed loudly, but it wasn't enough to overpower the deafening howl. The scent of flowers was gone.

_I… WILL... TAKE… EVERY… THING… FROM… YOU…!!!_

His glasses shattered, piercing his eyes.

He screamed.

––––––

**31 May, 1997, 2:47AM  
Hospital Wing, Hogwarts**

Ginny and Harry came awake simultaneously, screaming.

Hermione and Mrs. Weasley, who had been dozing in chairs between their beds, immediately jerked awake. Hermione started screaming, too, as she helplessly stood over Ginny. The younger girl was clutching her head as if it would fall apart if she didn't hold it together.

Mrs. Weasley's face was whiter than a sheet, and she seemed torn between helping Harry and her daughter. Hermione couldn't tell who was in more pain; Harry was thrashing around with his wand in his white-knuckled hand, precariously close to falling off the bed.

A door slammed and Madam Pomfrey came dashing out of her office, a look of alarm on her face.

"What happened?" she demanded; she had to shout to be heard.

Despite her efforts, tears started splashing down Hermione's cheeks. Madam Pomfrey pulled out her wand and shot a jet of blue light at Harry, but the spell rebounded off his body and crashed into the ceiling.

The front doors burst open and Ron, Remus, Tonks, Kingsley, Mad-Eye, and Snape spilled into the room.

"Harry!" Remus yelled.

"What the hell happened?" Ron said as he rushed over to Hermione.

"I-I don't know!" Hermione sobbed as she watched Remus and Snape approach Harry with their wands in hand. Madam Pomfrey had turned her attention to Ginny, who was now screaming as if she were being tortured; she and Tonks were attempting to get her to calm down. Mrs. Weasley looked like she would rather die than stand as a witness to the scene any longer.

"Molly, St. Mungo's!" Madam Pomfrey said sharply.

"Call Minerva," Remus instructed. "And tell Flitwick to keep the students away!"

Kingsley sped out of the Hospital Wing toward the Headmistress' office, while Mrs. Weasley hurried into Madam Pomfrey's office.

"Hold him down!" Mad-Eye growled as he joined Remus and Snape in trying to restrain Harry. His screams had escalated to the point where Hermione had to cover her ears, and his thrashing made it seem like he had been possessed by demons.

"What's wrong with him?" Mad-Eye bellowed at Snape as sparks began flying from Harry's wand. "You never said anything about this!"

"I don't know!" Snape shot back through gritted teeth. He was trying to avoid the sparks and the wild jabbing.

"The purple potion!" Madam Pomfrey was shouting at Tonks.

Tonks looked down bewilderedly at the array of potions on the table before her; a quarter of them were various shades of purple.

"Dark purple! Third to the left!"

Tonks grabbed the bottle and lobbed it across the room. Madam Pomfrey caught it deftly, uncorked it, and unceremoniously poured its contents into Ginny's mouth.

Ginny choked on the potion, but some of it seemed to have succeeded in going down her throat. Her screams subsided, and she promptly went limp.

"Thank Merlin – "

"_GET OUT!" _Harry suddenly roared, ripping off the sheets that had been entangled around his body. There was a loud bang and Remus was knocked off his feet. Hermione screamed again as something crashed to the floor and shattered.

"Get down!" Mad-Eye bellowed as Harry leapt out of the bed and staggered around like a crazed man. Fiery sparks and flashes of light shot intermittently out of his wand.

"Harry, mate!" Ron yelled, taking a step toward him.

"_NO!" _Harry howled, nearly falling to his knees; his face twisted in pain as he grabbed his head with his free hand. There were several more bangs.

"Get _down!" _Mad-Eye roared. He and Remus were standing between Harry and Ginny, trying to keep any stray spells from hitting her. Snape stood beside Harry's bed, his eyes screwed up as if he were trying to remember something.

"Hermione – " Ron dragged her to the floor as a jet of orange light soared over their heads and smashed into a window. More spells rocketed from Harry's wand, careening haphazardly around the room.

"_Protego!" _Ron muttered, creating a shield around himself and Hermione.

"Harry!" Remus was shouting, still trying to get through to him verbally. But Harry was clearly oblivious to his surroundings; half his spells rebounded off the walls and back to him. He was bleeding in several places. As he twisted and stumbled around the room, Hermione caught sight of his eyes once – and it was enough to make her want to scream again.

They were red.

There was a yell as a disc of yellow light cut Tonks across the cheek; Remus dove for cover as a purple jet of light shot over his head and smashed into the line of potions on the table behind him. Purple, green, and yellow liquids steamed and hissed as they splashed onto the floor.

"_GET OUT! NEVER AGAIN!" _Spells poured almost continuously from Harry's wand. Something nearby was burning, filling the room with smoke that made Hermione's eyes sting. Harry didn't seem to notice. _"I WON'T LET YOU! GET OUT!"_

Snape finally moved. He whipped his wand out in the midst of the fray and roared, _"Stupefy!"_

A jet of red light burst from his wand and hit Harry square in the chest.

The sudden silence was so tremendous that Hermione's ears rang. His mouth hanging open in surprise, Harry toppled forward onto the floor with a soft _thud._

"Wh-What did you do to him?!" Hermione screamed.

"Hermione, calm down!" Ron said pleadingly, restraining her from throwing herself onto Harry's prone form. "He's just been Stunned!"

"Why couldn't you have done that in the first place?" Mad-Eye growled, picking himself up off the floor.

"The Healers are here!" Mrs. Weasley said as she burst back into the room. As if on cue, Kingsley returned with McGonagall and two green-robed Healers on his heels.

Hermione sank to the ground and sobbed.

––––––

**31 May, 1997, 4:02AM**

The Healers had returned to St. Mungo's an hour ago, deeming that they had done all they could and that it would be wiser to keep both Ginny and Harry in the Hospital Wing. The rest of the Order had arrived soon after, to help clean up and see for themselves what had really happened.

Harry had been bandaged up and fed multiple potions before the Stunning Charm was lifted. He still hadn't woken up; it was as close to a coma state as Kingsley had ever seen. Ginny, too, was locked deeply in the sleep induced by the various potions the Healers had given her.

Their beds had been shifted away from the others, back toward Madam Pomfrey's office, and pushed closer together. Bill and Charlie were hovering protectively over their sister, while Arthur had his arms wrapped comfortingly around his wife, whose shoulders shook as she sobbed silently into a handkerchief.

Kingsley couldn't recall a moment when he'd seen Fred and George so quiet. They were both pale and thin-lipped as they sat with their backs leaning against Ginny's bed. Ron and Hermione were beside them, Ron's arm around her shoulders and her head resting in the crook of his arm.

Kingsley, Mad-Eye, Tonks, and Sturgis were opposite the Weasleys, leaning against the table that had once held the healing potions. Madam Pomfrey stood by the door to her office with Minerva, who had left the school in Flitwick's charge.

Remus and Snape had stepped out into the empty chamber off the Hospital Wing half an hour ago. Aside from Remus being the only one who even deigned to listen to Snape, he also seemed to be the only one Snape was willing to speak to.

Kingsley and Tonks had both agreed that they would continue to keep an eye on Snape. Everything he did so far told them that Harry was right – that he was really on their side now – but wasn't that what he'd been doing for the past sixteen years? Pretending to be an ally, an invaluable member of the Order, Dumbledore's confidante…when he'd really just been a spy. You-Know-Who was dead now, of course, but there were still Death Eaters out there that he could be in contact with. Particularly Bellatrix Lestrange, who, for one, would want revenge for her master's death.

Who knew where they were now? Or what they were planning? The Ministry seemed to think that everything had ended with You-Know-Who's death. No Aurors had been sent to track the surviving Death Eaters, wards had been lifted from Diagon Alley and King's Cross Station…

Footsteps announced Remus' and Snape's return. Heads turned toward them as they approached the group, their heads bowed. Snape stopped a good several paces before Remus did, preferring to stay in the shadows.

"What…happened?" Charlie whispered.

They all looked at Remus, who didn't answer for a long time. His head was still bowed, and the small candles lighting up the room didn't reach his face.

"Remus?" Tonks said softly. She pushed off the table and took a step toward him.

Remus looked up, but not at her. He stared at Harry for a long, hard moment. Then he turned away, his fists clenched. "Harry – " he began, his voice breaking.

Tonks, looking distressed, reached a hand out to touch his arm.

"Harry's...a Horcrux," Remus whispered. "There's nothing – nothing we can do."

Hermione gasped, and Ron's eyes widened. Fred and George looked stunned. Charlie sucked in his breath sharply.

"Are you sure?" Bill demanded. "How do you know?"

Remus glanced at Snape, who nodded ever so slightly.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Remus said bitterly. "The night he was attacked, seventeen years ago…when Voldemort's curse backfired, a part of his soul was transferred to Harry. Even Harry knows; he's known for a long time."

"Harry _knows?" _Ron asked incredulously.

"He suspected it," Snape said softly. "We were trying to find a way to expel it."

"Then why this?" Mad-Eye growled, nodding at Harry. "Why now?"

Remus sighed as he turned back to face the group. "Before, there was a balance," he said quietly. He drew his wand and conjured two spheres in the air – one white, one black. "Light and dark. It's the rarest case of Horcruxes, where the host's – Harry's – soul and the Horcrux soul create and maintain an equilibrium. Neither one had complete control." He waved his wand, and the two spheres merged into one, becoming a pale gray color. "This is why Harry suddenly became so powerful. Traits from both Voldemort's and Harry's souls blended together, building up and manifesting themselves as unbelievable magical talents. This manifestation was triggered over the past year, in part, with Harry's increasing contact with the other Horcruxes.

"If nothing else had happened, Harry would have remained the way he was. The Horcrux soul wouldn't have been able to wield any more influence over him than that which involved his magic. But with the addition of the sliver of soul that was in Ginny…" He waved his wand again. Hermione gasped; a dense blackness had begun to pulse within the gray sphere. It slowly spread over the entire thing until the pale gray had become darker, murkier. Remus looked at the sphere, his eyes distant and his expression unreadable. "…The balance has tipped."

**

* * *

**

**1 June, 1997, 1:12AM**

Snape hesitated before reaching for the doorknob.

It was cool and comforting in his clammy hand. Familiar.

The door opened easily, and he slowly stepped into the Headmistress' office.

He grimaced and shook his head, remembering the last time he had set foot in this room. Then, it had been the _Headmaster's _office. Dumbledore's.

He shut the door behind him and leaned against it, closing his eyes. He breathed in deeply.

Minerva had been here only a year; it was not enough to replace Dumbledore's traces. He sighed as he opened his eyes again and looked around. Not surprisingly, Minerva had kept all of her predecessor's whirring silver instruments. He doubted she knew what half of them were for, because he certainly didn't. Gryffindor's sword still lay on a shelf behind the desk, gleaming in its glass case, as well as the Sorting Hat. But the phoenix's perch was gone and the usual clutter of quills and scrolls had been cleared from the desk.

And then there was the golden frame hanging on the wall.

He felt his heart thudding against his chest. He kept his eyes trained on Gryffindor's sword, pretending to examine it. When he finally mustered the courage to glance – oh-so-casually – at the portrait, it was only to find that it was empty.

He had dreaded seeing the old man. But to find that he had stepped out at such a crucial moment rather infuriated him.

_Never here when I need you, _he thought bitterly._ At least that hasn't changed._

He had come here because he didn't know where else to go. Didn't know what else to do. The plan had gone terribly wrong. Despite Potter's efforts – and somehow he _knew _the boy had been capable – the Dark Lord had been too much for him.

_I could just kill him._

It was as simple as that. Since Potter had at least succeeded in removing the fragment of soul from the Weasley girl, he was now the sole remaining Horcrux. If he died, so would the Dark Lord. For once and for all.

_Severus, please…_

His mouth twitched. _You fool. Why did you trust me? Those were empty promises. Lies!_

It didn't even have to be by magic. He could easily slit Potter's throat – a Muggle's way of murder – and slip out of the castle in the dead of night. By the time anyone took notice, he would be long gone.

_Severus…_

_You should have seen. You should have known. After what you did…after what you said…_

_Help him, Severus. Help him for me. Promise me you'll help him._

He shook his head in disgust; disgust with the old man, with Potter, with himself. _Merlin's bloody beard. _Irritably, he glanced around the circular room. _Okay, I promised. So _now _what? _He began walking around the room, running his fingers over the walls.

_Books…silver instruments…empty portraits…a penseive…_

He approached the desk, still scrutinizing the room.

_Phoenix feather quills…Gryffindor's sword…_

He stopped behind the desk and snorted. _What? What am I supposed to do? _

_The Sorting Hat…Sneak-o-scopes…_

He slowly sat down in Minerva's chair, sighing heavily. He set his elbows down on the table and rubbed his temples. _Typical of you. Giving me nothing and expecting me to do everything. _

…_The Sorting Hat._

Struck with a sudden thought, he stood up so quickly that the chair screeched. He turned around to look at the Sorting Hat, sitting innocently beside the sword's glass case. He reached out and carefully picked it up. Curiously turning it over in his hands, he sat back down at the desk.

_An old relic of Godric Gryffindor's. Has a mind of its own, really. It can always tell what you're thinking. And sometimes, at the right moment, it can give you what you need._

_What I need._

Taking a deep breath, he gently placed the old, battered hat on his head.

There was silence.

He sat there, with his eyes closed, for a long moment. He felt ridiculous.

Disgusted, he'd been about to take it back off when he _remembered…_

––––––

_As the clapping died down, Professor McGonagall looked at the next name on her list. In her stern voice, she called out, "Snape, Severus!"_

_Swallowing hard, he detached himself from the line of his fellow first years and approached the Sorting Hat. It looked old, battered; hardly suited for such an important task. But it had been here longer than Dumbledore, so who was he to question it's power?_

_He sat down on the stool and set the hat gingerly down on his head. It was so big that it covered his eyes._

"_Hmm…" said a small voice in his ear._

_He almost jumped. It was another moment or two before the voice continued. "Interesting," it said thoughtfully. "Very interesting."_

_What's interesting? he wondered._

"_You're interesting," the voice said matter-of-factly. "Well, everyone is, really, but you're one of the most interesting by far."_

_I am?_

"_Of course. Look at all of this inside your head – courage, intelligence, loyalty, cunning. That's a lot for a little boy, don't you think?"_

_Really? You can see that in my head?_

_There was a snort. "Been doing it for decades. Gets a bit boring after a while. It's kids like you who make this job lively, you know. Now, let's see…"_

_He sat very still, wondering just how much of his mind the hat could see. Was it reading all of his thoughts? Could it find out all of his secrets?_

"_Okay, then. Say, you don't have a preference, do you?"_

_A preference?_

"_No?"_

_Not really…_

"_Slytherin it is, then!"_

_He heard the hat repeat the word at a bellow to the entire hall. People began clapping. Breathing out a sigh of relief, he took off the hat and replaced it on the stool. As he headed to the cheering Slytherin table, he looked up and found the blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore twinkling at him…_

––––––

"_Ah, Severus. Is that you?"_

Snape was so startled for a moment that he couldn't speak. Could only stare upon a face that had haunted his dreams for nearly a year.

"_I was beginning to wonder where you'd gotten to."_

"_A-Albus?"_

"_Might I mention how delighted I am at your visit?"_

"_Albus, I…"_

"_In answer to your question, I don't normally reside in the Sorting Hat. This is just a temporary arrangement."_

There was a small chuckle.

"_Albus..."_

"_Yes, it has been quite some time, hasn't it? I imagine many things have happened – Minerva does keep me informed, of course, but she's been very busy these past few months…much busier than I ever was, I daresay. But I trust you've been well?"_

He gave up trying to change the subject. "…_Relatively."_

"_Good, good. Now…was there something you wished to ask me?"_

Yes. Everything. He wanted to ask the old man everything about everything.

"_How are you here? Talking to me?"_

"_Like I said, it's only temporary. I shall have to leave shortly. In about a minute, in fact."_

"_Albus…I killed you."_

"_Yes, you did, Severus. And I believe thanks are in order – my arthritis seems to be completely cured here."_

"…_Have I ever told you that I _despise _your sense of humor?"_

"_Many times, Severus," the old man chuckled. "Many times. Now, I believe that there was another question you wanted to ask me?"_

"…_How do I help him?"_

_The old man smiled patiently. "If there's anything I taught you, Severus Snape, it's love."_

"_Love?" he asked incredulously. "You want – I can't!"_

"_You did before, didn't you?"_

"_That was different!" he said harshly. "That was completely different!"_

"_And what else?"_

"…_What?"_

"_What else have I taught you?"_

_He hesitated. "Love…and forgiveness."_

_Dumbledore nodded and spread his hands wide. "What more do you wish for, Severus?"_

"_I can't," he said adamantly. "You know I can't."_

"_You can. I know you can."_

The outline of the old man suddenly began to shimmer. Right before Snape's very eyes, he began to fade away.

"_You know I have more faith in you than all my Gryffindors. Courage. Intelligence. Loyalty. Cunning."_

Desperately, he reached out to stop him. But Dumbledore had already melted away; only his voice remained.

"_Remember, Severus. Love and forgiveness."_

**

* * *

**

**1 June, 1997, 3:02AM**

He stood in the doorway of the Hospital Wing, no more certain of what to do than before. There appeared to have been no change while he had been gone, other than the fact that the Weasley girl had woken up. She had apparently been told what had happened; she had pulled her knees up to her chest and was crying softly. Lupin and her brothers were attempting to console her in quiet voices.

Sturgis was the first to notice that he had returned. His face immediately turned stony. Snape ignored him.

_Remember, Severus._

He slowly walked forward, his gaze locked on Potter's motionless body. The boy's face was as white as the sheets tucked up around his chin, and his hair seemed all the blacker because of it.

_Love and forgiveness._

He barely noticed Lupin turn and half-stand up from his chair. He could only see Dumbledore in his mind's eye, could only hear his words repeating themselves over and over in his head.

_You know I have more faith in you than all my Gryffindors._

He stopped beside Potter's bed and stared down at his face. At the scar. Breathing out a long, shaky sigh, he shook his head and drew his wand.

_You can. I know you can._

Lupin stood up and took a step toward him. With a flick of his wand, he conjured a chair and pulled it up beside the bed.

_Can what, Albus? _he thought bitterly as he sat down. _What am I supposed to do?_

After a moment, Lupin returned to his chair. He and Sturgis whispered something to each other, but Snape didn't care anymore.

He put his head in his hands and sighed.

* * *

Up Next: Snape tries to take Dumbledore's words to heart as Harry fights his inner demons, while some very _real _demons come knocking on Hogwarts' door…Please...review... 


	25. Battle for Hogwarts

Right. So _this _is what we call a _ridiculously long chapter._ Twenty flipping pages on Word. Crazy, we know. Thanks to those who reviewed, by the way - we finally made it past one hundred! Yippee!

* * *

**Battle for Hogwarts  
****3 June, 1997, 7:32AM**

"Don't play games with me, Draco."

She was getting impatient, which wasn't helping her already irritable mood. She glared at her nephew, who was kneeling before her with his hands tied behind his back.

"I'm not playing games," Draco spat. His right eye was bruised, and there was a cut on his left cheek. His hair was matted and filthy. "I don't know where they are."

"This would be so much easier if you would just _cooperate,_" she snarled, pulling out her wand again. She was getting tired of this.

Fear flashed in Draco's eyes at the sight of the wand. She felt a modicum of satisfaction.

"Tell me," she said softly, "or bear the consequences. Don't think I'll go easy on you because you're my sister's son."

"It doesn't matter," Draco said flatly. "She's dead. You didn't care about her anyway."

She gritted her teeth."Tell me!" she snapped.

"You can cut me to pieces for all I care," he growled back, and he looked so like Lucius for a moment that she was startled. "It's your loss, because _I don't know where they are."_

"Liar," she hissed, and pointed her wand at him. _"Crucio!"_

He screamed. She could tell he was trying not to, but the pain of a Cruciatus Curse wasn't something a mere boy could ignore. She watched him writhe on the ground, face screwed up in agony.

With a flick of her wand, the curse was lifted. He lay panting on the ground, a pitiful sight. She felt a momentary pang of guilt; _what would Cissy say? _But Draco was right – she was gone. _Dead._

"I'll ask you one more time," she said slowly, squatting next to him and lifting his chin up with her wand. His cold gray eyes were dull with pain and fatigue. "Where are the entrances to the secret passages?"

"Kill me," he whispered, gazing unflinchingly into her eyes. "Just kill me and get it over with."

She sighed in disgust. "Why are you holding back?" she asked. She could not even _begin_ to fathom why the stupid boy was being so difficult. "Don't you want _revenge_?"

"For what?" he said bitterly. "My parents' deaths?"

"For Narcissa and Lucius, for Fenrir Greyback, for Rabastan, for all the loyal Death Eaters – for the Dark Lord!"

"He's the one who killed them," Draco snarled. "Your precious Dark Lord killed my mum and dad, not Potter!"

They glared at each other. After a long, hard moment, she flicked his head away with her wand and stood back up. "The Dark Lord is never wrong," she said quietly. She was slightly taken aback at how strained her voice sounded.

Draco grunted as he twisted himself back up off the floor. "Are you…going to destroy it?"

"Yes," she answered without hesitation. _And good riddance. _She had never liked the place, even when she had been a student.

"What if Snape's there?"

She clenched her jaw and turned away. Severus Snape was one of the main causes of her irascible mood. _Bloody lying bastard. I should have known. Deserter, traitor, coward…abandoning his master when he was needed most!_

"Why would he be?" she said contemptuously. "He killed their beloved Headmaster – do you think they would allow him to return after that?" _He's hiding somewhere, coward that he is. Biding his time, waiting for the moment to strike…waiting to take the throne after it's been won. That's what he's always been doing. He was never on our side. He was hanging back, waiting, plotting to take control once Potter was out of the way…_

"…where they are."

She whirled around sharply to stare at him. "What?"

"I'll tell you where they are," Draco repeated. He was staring at the ground.

A smile slowly spread across her face. She didn't bother asking what had made him change his mind; she didn't care, anyway. "I see you've come to your senses," she sniffed.

"They're both in Hogsmeade," he said in a tight voice. "One is from the Shrieking Shack, where it goes to the Whomping Willow."

She nodded impatiently; that much she had found out from Wormtail. It was the other one she was interested in.

"The second one is in Honeydukes' cellar. It leads to the third floor."

"The password?"

He hesitated. He'd obviously been hoping she wouldn't know about the password.

"Dissendium," he muttered.

She made a mental note of it. If she split up her forces, they could attack from both places at once. _A devastating plan, _she thought in wicked glee. _They don't stand a chance. At last…sweet revenge for the Dark Lord!_

Draco shifted.

She looked down at him; he was still avoiding her gaze. She considered him for a moment. With a wave of her wand, the ropes binding his hands unknotted themselves. He gasped as he brought his raw, red wrists in front of his eyes. "Get up," she said curtly. "Find your little friends. The three of you will lead us there tonight."

**

* * *

**

**3 June, 1997, 4:13PM**

He strides across a village square that is both foreign and familiar. It is dark and quiet; the only light is that which streams through the windows of the small cottages that line the street. Laughter and bits of conversations drift out of the houses.

He walks past all these things.

Shop windows are decorated with spiders and pumpkins, the remains of Halloween and trick-or-treating. Stray candy wrappers float by him on a cool breeze. He wants to stop, to look, to observe, but his legs keep moving forward. His eyes and ears strain to see and to listen, to bask in the warmth and innocence of the small village.

He turns onto another street, darker but somehow cozier. And there, only a few paces away, is the cozy little cottage. He stops and stands in the street, unable to move any further. He gazes over the dark hedge at the sitting room window, where he sees them: A tall, black-haired man letting loose a stream of bubbles from his wand for a black-haired boy to wave his fists at. The mother, a tall, red-haired woman, sits on a nearby table and laughs.

And suddenly he hears footsteps; coldness washes over him in a crashing wave. He turns his head to see a dark figure approaching the house, a black cloak billowing in its wake. Fear grips him, but he can't move, can't offer any warning. The cloaked man sweeps past him, silent as a ghost. There is a creak as the gate is pushed open, but the family in the cottage doesn't notice.

The cloaked man flicks his wand and the front door is blasted clear off its hinges. There is a scream and the black-haired man disappears from the window.

He can suddenly hear their voices, much too clearly.

"_Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off – "_

There is a loud, chilling cackle of high-pitched laughter.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

A flash of green light bursts through the window, blinding him.

The red-haired woman runs from the room and reappears in the next one, locking the door behind her. She stands in front of a crib, clutching her baby tightly to her chest.

There is a _bang_ and the woman whirls around to face the cloaked man. She quickly sets her baby down in his crib and spreads her arms wide.

"_Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"_

"_Stand aside, you silly girl…stand aside, now."_

"_Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead – "_

She is begging, crying.

"_This is my last warning – "_

"_Not Harry! Please…have mercy…have mercy…"_

The baby stands up in his crib, curious. The woman is sobbing now.

"_Not Harry! Please – I'll do anything – "_

"_Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!"_

The woman doesn't budge, keeping her baby hidden behind her back. The cloaked man raises his wand.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

Another flash of green light –

––––––

He looks into a pair of gray eyes that gaze solemnly back.

"Just take the cup."

"No."

He shakes his head irritably; his throbbing leg makes it hard to concentrate on the handsome face swimming before him. "…Both of us."

"What?"

"We'll take it at the same time. It's still a Hogwarts victory. We'll tie for it."

The gray eyes widen in surprise. "You – you sure?"

"Yeah," he says, gritting his teeth against the pain. "Yeah…we've helped each other out, haven't we? Let's just take it together."

A grin splits the boy's face. "You're on. Come here."

He limps over toward the plinth, helped along by the boy. They're both slightly giddy with excitement as the golden gleam lights up their faces. They both reach out their hands.

"On three, right? One – two – three – "

His hand grasps cool metal. Before he can do anything else, he is jerked forward, off his feet, dragged into a whirlwind of color…

He slams into the ground with a force that makes him gasp. His leg gives way beneath his weight and he falls forward.

"Where are we?"

The boy is looking around suspiciously as he helps him to his feet. The school is gone; they are standing instead in an overgrown graveyard. "Did anyone tell _you _the cup was a Portkey?" he asks.

He shakes his head. "Is this supposed to be part of the task?"

"I dunno." The boy sounds nervous as he pulls out his wand.

He does the same. He has the eerie feeling that someone is out there, watching them. "Wait – someone's coming."

He feels his body tense as he squints into the darkness. A dark figure suddenly emerges from the rows of grave markers before him, slowly approaching them. He can't make out the face, but the figure is small and short, with a black hood and cloak. It appears to be carrying something in its arms.

They exchange puzzled looks.

Cold sweat runs down his face as the figure draws ever nearer. He and the boy step closer to each other. "What – "

"_Kill the spare."_

A rush, a flash of green light –

––––––

_Forgive._

_Forgive who? _Snape thought bitterly. _Potter? For what? For being Lily Potter's son? For being the Boy Who Lived?_

The Hospital Wing was empty save for him, Potter, and the Weasley girl, who had fallen into an exhausted sleep again. The other members of the Order had departed in the morning on some sort of business; nothing they cared to share with him.

Potter suddenly groaned. Snape looked at him sharply, but he made no further sounds. His face was still locked in a grimace.

_Love and forgiveness._

_You can._

_I know you can._

**

* * *

**

**3 June, 1997, 6:28PM  
Great Hall, Hogwarts**

Neville stared down at his plate and glumly swallowed a forkful of mashed potatoes. All around him, his fellow Gryffindors were likewise subdued. In fact, the entire Great Hall was nearly pin-drop silent – as it had been for the past few days.

"I can't _stand _this," Demelza finally declared, setting her fork down with a clatter that made several people jump. "It's _ridiculous."_

Neville sighed as he reached for his glass. He swirled its contents around before taking a sip. Everyone had found out what Harry had attempted; everyone had found out what he was. Neville could hardly believe it, even though it had already been two days.

_Harry…a Horcrux. How is it possible? How could this happen?_

The Ravenclaws were still looking feverishly through their books, trying to find more information. Colin and Luna had gone to visit Ginny twice. The rest of the PA was listless, unsure of what to do.

_We can't help him. There's nothing we can do. Either Harry wins this battle alone…or not at all._

But that wasn't right. They had promised to defeat the Dark Dork together. They had promised to fight, to help, with everything they had. It felt _wrong _to be sitting here. And it was all the more frustrating, because he knew that with a twist of fate it could have been _him _lying in the Hospital Wing, a piece of the Dark Dork lodged in his soul.

To his right, Dean pushed away his plate and glanced at Seamus. "I don't feel like eating," he muttered.

Seamus nodded, and they both picked up their bags and stood up. "Let's go."

"Me, too."

"Wait up."

Leaving half-eaten dinners, the Gryffindors got up from their benches as one. Neville plodded out into the Entrance Hall behind Lavender and Parvati. He followed their whispers up the marble staircase, trusting them to lead him because he wasn't paying attention to where he was going.

As he shuffled down the corridors on the third floor, an odd sensation passed through him. His fingers startled to tingle and the walls seemed to close in around him. He picked his head up and glanced around; he'd been having the same feeling since this morning, and it was strongest when he was on the third floor.

He saw nothing out of place.

"Something wrong?" asked Dennis Creevey from his left.

Neville looked at him. "What? Oh...it's nothing."

But he couldn't shake off the strange feeling that the school seemed to be shrinking. He'd been uneasy for some time now, knowing there were still Death Gobblers – _Bellatrix Lestrange_ – out there, but there was a whole new level of apprehension surrounding him now. It was almost as if – though this was absurd – as if Hogwarts herself was trying to warn him.

_Against what? What more could there be?_

He shook his head as he continued up the stairs.

Something wasn't right. He just didn't know what.

**

* * *

**

**3 June, 1997, 10:38PM  
Outskirts of Hogsmeade**

"Are they ready?"

"Rodolphus is in position," Farrell confirmed.

"Good," she nodded. She liked Farrell – even though he was relatively new, he knew how to do his job and didn't complain. He had been a zealous worshipper of his master, but after the Dark Lord's death he had turned his adorations to her. Not that she minded.

She glanced over at Draco, who was sitting against a tree several paces away. His eyes were closed, and he looked paler than usual. Crabbe and Goyle hovered over him nervously.

"When I give the signal, relay the message to him," she said.

Farrell nodded and slipped his hood over his head. "I'll be waiting."

She dismissed him and he melted back into the darkness of the woods. She let a smile split her face for a moment before turning back to Draco.

"Get up," she said coldly. His eyes flew open to stare at her. "Prepare yourself. We're leaving in five minutes."

––––––

He saw them coming.

He instinctively took a step back, further into the shadows. He narrowed his eyes as he watched them glide down the street, quickly making a count as they passed him.

_So many… Where are they going?_

It was a good thing he had warned the others in advance; all the shops were dark and empty. Rosmerta and Madam Puddifoot had left a week earlier; Gladrags, Dervish and Banges, and Scrivenshaft's had closed down soon after; and Ambrosius Flume and his family had moved out into the countryside only two days ago.

He frowned as they continued on past the post office and Zonko's Joke Shop. Surely they weren't planning –

_Ah…Honeydukes. The cellar. …How could they have known?_

But then he saw them – the three boys at the head of the group, apparently in the lead. They stopped in front of Honeydukes Sweetshop and glanced back at the tall, hooded figure watching them.

_So that must be Malfoy…and the other two Crabbe and Goyle. And the tall one, obviously in charge…_

There was a soft bleat beside him.

"Doesn't look good," he grunted. He watched grimly as they disappeared inside the sweetshop, one by one. "Doesn't look good at all."

**

* * *

**

**3 June, 1997, 10:44PM  
Hospital Wing, Hogwarts**

"He's a git," Bill said darkly. "A complete arse."

Sturgis sighed as several heads nodded their agreement. Bill, Charlie, Mad-Eye, Kingsley, and Tonks had just returned from a string of errands, which had included a visit to the Ministry. It apparently hadn't gone well; all three of them looked grumpy.

The rest of the Order had been attending to personal business throughout the day. Molly and Arthur had gone to the Burrow for a few hours with Fred, George, Ron, and Hermione, while Remus, Blackthorn, and Drake had gone to reestablish connections with some of the newer recruits. Minerva, Flitwick, and Sprout, of course, had been busy with the school. Sturgis had taken the chance to visit Hestia's grave outside Carlisle.

Snape seemed to have stayed in the Hospital Wing all day. According to Madam Pomfrey, he had only gotten up twice, and then only to move to the window and stare out across the lake. When Sturgis had returned, it was to find that he had fallen into a restless sleep in his chair beside Harry's bed.

"I don't think we've ever had a useful Minister of Magic," Drake said dryly, "though some people thought Scrimgeour would be better, being a retired Auror and all."

"He ought to get sacked," Charlie said, folding his arms across his chest. "I mean, what kind of idiot would let Death Eaters run free at a time like this? The Dark Dork's gone, yeah, but it was the Death Eaters that did most of the damage in the first place."

"Have you talked to Dawlish?" Remus asked.

Tonks nodded. "Him, Proudfoot, and Robards. They're all getting edgy, too, but they can't exactly do anything without Scrimgeour's permission."

"Git," Bill repeated. "If I ever – "

He was interrupted by a loud rattle. Kingsley and Tonks whipped out their wands.

A streak of silver light shot inside from the double doors and landed on the table beside Mad-Eye, where it resolved itself in the form of a goat. Minerva gasped.

It opened its mouth and a deep, gruff voice filled the room. _::Death Eaters headed your way. I counted fifty-four, but there could be more. Third floor, Gunhilda of Gorsemoor.::_

Startled, Sturgis sat up in his chair as Kingsley, Tonks, and Mad-Eye immediately jumped to their feet and dashed out of the room.

"The students!" Flitwick cried.

"Drake!" Blackthorn said.

With a quick nod, Drake pulled out his wand and muttered, _"Expecto Patronum!"_

A silver falcon streaked past Sturgis and out the window. Two more beams of silver burst out of Bill's and Charlie's wands and disappeared into the night.

"Nicholas!" Minerva called. _"Nicholas!"_

Sturgis joined Drake and Blackthorn at the door, but before they could leave a pearly-white figure burst through the wall.

"You called?" Nearly Headless Nick asked breathlessly.

"Call the other ghosts," Minerva said grimly, drawing her wand. "There are Death Eaters coming to the castle!"

––––––

**3 June, 1997, 10:47PM**

Neville sat in the common room, staring into the fire and half-listening to the conversations around him. Nobody had gone to sleep yet – not even the younger kids – and it was slightly crowded. Seeing that there were no chairs left, several people had decided to just sprawl on the floor.

"…harder than a Stunning Charm," Dean was saying from beside him. A slim paperback lay open on his lap.

"But the Stunning Charm has greater accuracy," Colin countered.

"True," Dean conceded.

Seamus shook his head. "Yet it does less damage to – "

"_Gryffindors!"_

Neville looked up in surprise as the common room instantly fell silent. A moment later, Nearly Headless Nick came charging through the wall, looking frantic.

"Prefects!" he shouted. "Death Eaters coming to the castle! Prefects, get – "

Nick's voice was drowned out in the ensuing commotion. Several girls screamed as everyone jumped to their feet, talking all at once – Nick looked distraught –

Neville stood up and waved his wand. There was a loud _bang_; it prompted a few screams, but it had the desired effect: Everyone looked at him.

"Stay calm," he said quietly, lowering his wand. "Nobody panic. Just remember what we did last time, all right? Dean, Seamus – take everyone to the Room of Requirement. I'm going to call the rest of the PA. Colin, Dennis – come with me."

Dean and Seamus nodded, immediately taking up the roles of their missing prefects. Trusting that they would take care of things, Neville scrambled out of the portrait hole with Colin and Dennis on his heels. They sprinted down the corridors to the Room of Requirement, and Neville pulled out the golden coin from his pocket as he went. He pressed the tip of his wand to the coin, which instantly flashed and grew hot in his hand.

He pocketed the coin again and skidded to a stop before the blank stretch of wall. Colin and Dennis waited beside Barnabas the Barmy's tapestry as he began pacing back and forth.

_I need a room where everyone will be safe. I need a room the Death Gobblers won't be able to get into. I need a room that will let me reach the other common rooms. I need a room where everyone will be safe. I need a room the Death – _

As soon as the silver doorknob appeared, he seized it and wrenched the door open. He slipped inside, followed by Colin and Dennis, and quickly glanced around.

It was a spacious room – more than suitable for accommodating a large number of students. It was also furnished with a number of comfy-looking sofas and large armchairs. Three wooden doors stood at equal intervals in the wall before him, respectively emblazoned with an eagle, a badger, and a snake.

"Colin, take Slytherin," Neville instructed. "Dennis, you take Hufflepuff and I'll go to Ravenclaw. The doors lead to their common rooms, where I've told them to wait. Just tell them to follow you back here."

Colin and Dennis both flashed the thumbs-up, and the three of them ran for the doors. Neville yanked the Ravenclaw door open, which revealed a brightly-lit corridor. He plunged forward without hesitation.

The pounding of his feet and the sound of his heavy breathing echoed off the walls. It seemed to take ages for him to reach the end.

But there – it wasn't a door, more like a thick veil of golden mist. He barreled through it, expecting some sort of resistance –

– To find that he'd burst out of a painting. He stumbled in his surprise, but a pair of small, warm hands steadied him. He looked up to find himself face-to-face with Luna. She smiled at him and said, "Hello, Neville."

He suddenly felt very hot. He took a step backward. "I – er – Luna – "

"Does that lead to the Room of Requirement?" she asked, nodding at the painting and saving him from further embarrassing himself.

He nodded wordlessly.

"First and second years go," Anthony ordered, and a small group of students quickly stood up and hurried into the painting, slipping through it like it was made of water.

It took less than a minute to clear the common room. Anthony, Padma, and Luna, the last three, nodded before following him back through the corridor.

He ran back into the Room of Requirement to find that Dean and Seamus had arrived with the Gryffindors, but neither Colin nor Dennis had returned yet. Neville had figured it would take them longer, seeing that the Hufflepuff and Slytherin common rooms were further away. Still, he fidgeted nervously until the doors finally burst open.

Students came spilling out into the room. The older members of the PA immediately flocked to him.

"They're probably already here," he told them grimly. "We should leave now so that they can't find the door."

Dean nodded, pulling out his wand and heading toward the door. "Let's go, then!"

"All of you be careful," Neville said. "Help each other out and just remember what we've been practicing, all right?"

"For Hogwarts!" Seamus yelled, punching the air with his fist as Dean opened the door.

Immediately, they could hear screams and shouts coming from below. Neville darted away from the group and sped down the stairs.

The screaming grew louder as he neared the third floor. Flashes of light lit up the dim corridors and stairways.

He jumped the last few steps onto the fourth floor and glanced over the railing. It looked like all hell had broken loose – spells crackled and wands flashed and blood spattered and shrieks echoed through the castle.

He couldn't tell who had the upper hand; there were so many Death Gobblers – and still more pouring out of a dark hole in the wall – but there were also dozens of bright-robed people Neville had never seen before, fighting fiercely and valiantly among the staff and the Aurors and the Order of the Phoenix. Some were dueling on the stairs, pushing their way up to the fourth floor and down to the second.

That was where he saw Charlie Weasley, one of Ron's brothers, dueling viciously against two Death Gobblers – on the staircase, not a dozen paces away from him.

As he ran forward to help, Charlie bellowed, _"For Ginny!" _and blasted the first Death Gobbler with a jet of blue light and slammed his fist into the side of the second Death Gobbler's head. Both of them toppled over the railing.

"Charlie – behind you!" Neville called; Charlie, too busy staring at Neville in surprise, hadn't noticed the Death Gobbler sneaking up on him. _"Stupefy!"_

The Death Gobbler ducked, but Charlie's spell caught him on the leg and he tumbled back down the stairs, howling.

"What are you doing here?" Charlie yelled as he deflected a stray curse. "Where are the others?"

"There are more of us coming!" Neville shouted as he fired off three spells into the fray in quick succession.

As if on cue, Dean, Seamus, and Blaise came sprinting around the corner.

But there was no more time to talk – Neville was right in the thick of things now, narrowly escaping death every five seconds as spells soared over his head and whistled past his ear. He cast whatever counterjinxes and hexes and charms came to mind, not stopping to see if they hit their marks. Everywhere he turned, there was a mask lunging at him.

He brushed past Professor McGonagall once – her eyes widened in shock as she recognized him – but she didn't have the chance to yell at him as he was knocked aside by a Death Gobbler.

"_Stupefy! Confundus! Petrificus – "_

"_Move!" _someone bellowed in his ear. Neville caught a glimpse of blond hair and burly arms before he was knocked to the ground; twin jets of green light shot through the space where his head had been a split second ago.

"Watch your back, mate," his rescuer said as he hauled Neville back to his feet. He disappeared into the melee before Neville could get a proper look at his face.

"_Petrificus Totalus!"_

Neville jumped back as a Death Gobbler crashed to the floor at his feet.

"Neville! _Incarcerous!"_

Neville looked up to see Lavender, Parvati, Padma, Ernie, Anthony, Justin, Hannah, and Susan standing behind the railing on the fourth floor. They were raining spells on the Death Gobblers below them as a group of sixth years protected them with Shield Charms.

Two more Death Gobblers fell, bound head-to-toe in ropes like mummies.

Neville grinned at them before diving back into the fray.

––––––

"_Reducto! Stupefy!"_

Remus smiled humorlessly as he saw his spells find their marks. The two Death Eaters fell backwards, but two more hurried to take their places. There were _always _more to take places of the fallen. But at least they had stopped streaming in from the secret passage – the statue of Gunhilda had resumed its place in front of the opening.

And the Order had its reinforcements – they had arrived just in time – making their number nearly equal to that of the Death Eaters'. They could win this. They _had _to win this.

"To your left!" Tonks shouted from behind him. Her quick warning allowed him to deflect the jet of yellow light and retaliate with a countercurse.

"Thanks," he said as they moved on to their next target. They were standing back-to-back at the end of the corridor, picking off any Death Eaters that came their way and warning each other of attacks.

"_Stupefy! Impedimenta!"_

Just beyond the group of Death Eaters they faced, Bill and Charlie had formed a devastating ring with their friends. All of them having been former dragon keepers or curse breakers, they fought ferociously under the onslaught.

"Two right, one left!" Tonks warned.

Remus nodded. "Fourth."

"Got it," she said, and as the Death Eaters attacked, they both ducked. While the Death Eaters cursed and dodged their own spells, Remus and Tonks let loose a string of Trip Jinxes. All three fell flat on their faces and were half-trampled by their surrounding comrades.

"_Stupefy!"_

Tonks flashed him a grin as the Stunning Charms hit their targets. "I like that one!"

Before he could respond, a small ball of light flitted up to him and exploded. He cried out in pain as the light lanced through his eyes, blinding him. There was a heavy _thud _and a scream, and then a thick arm had encircled his throat. Choking and gasping, he was lifted off his feet. He struggled fiercely against the tightening grip, but his strength was no match for the Death Eater's and his eyes felt like they had been forced through a shredder –

He could hear Tonks shouting, screaming something, but her voice seemed to be getting farther away…stars burst like firecrackers inside his skull and all he could think of was that he_ didn't want to die this way – _

The Death Eater holding him lurched about, apparently under fire. His knee collided painfully with something extremely _solid _and he knew his neck was going to snap if his head was jerked up one more time –

And then the Death Eater dropped him like a dead weight, letting loose a string of curses. Remus collapsed on the ground, his breath returning in searing gasps and his eyes streaming. But he could _see _– he rolled out of the way as the Death Eater stumbled backward and tried to turn the world right-side-up again. Just as he got to his feet the Death Eater whirled around and went for his throat again. Remus raised his wand, ready to physically _stab _him if he had to.

But out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tonks jump up, grab one of the torches lining the wall, and promptly thrust the flame at the Death Eater's hood.

The Death Eater screamed horribly as his cloak easily caught fire. He staggered away bellowing and flapping his arms, causing further chaos as he knocked fellow Death Eaters off their feet. Tonks hastily replaced the torch and rushed to Remus' side.

"Oh my God – are you – can you – I mean, is anything – "

"I'm fine – _Protego!"_

Tonks swiftly helped him to his feet while the shield was still in place. And then they fought on, one near-death experience blending in with another as the battle continued, because there wasn't time for anything more…

**

* * *

**

**3 June, 1997, 11:12PM**

He tries to steady his friend, but the boy's legs are out of control. He still can't believe what's just happened – _it broke _– but there are more pressing matters at hand. The sounds of shattering glass and rock being blasted apart surround him. His shoulders ache from the tension, but he can't relax – not yet –

His friend is apologizing profusely, but he's not really listening. Too many things are happening, too many spells rocket around him, too many thoughts – regrets – fears – are colliding into each other in his head. "It doesn't matter!" he says, trying to figure out how to make the floundering legs _stop_. "Just try and stand, let's get out of – "

"_Dubbledore!" _the boy shouts, staring over his shoulder.

"What?" He can't quite trust his ears – he might not have heard right, in this din –

"DUBBLEDORE!"

He turns to look, and relief floods him like a tidal wave. _Albus Dumbledore _dashes into the room, absolute fury written all over his face. He watches in awe as the fleeing Death Eaters – they don't stand a chance – are rounded up like mindless cattle.

But the gaunt, black-haired man on the dais hasn't noticed, and neither has his opponent. They continue to duel, unaware of their surroundings, unaware of anyone but each other, mocking grins gracing their faces.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" the black-haired man yells, laughing. The jet of red light that has just missed him smashes into the wall.

His opponent snarls, her heavy-lidded eyes alight with rage. She twirls her wand, releasing another jet of red light – he watches in mounting horror as time slows to a snail's pace – and the black-haired man doesn't move, he's still laughing – and the spell catches him square in the chest.

He releases his still-floundering friend and jumps down the steps, pulling out his wand as he goes. Nothing seems to be moving fast enough, and a shrill, triumphant scream rips fills the room.

The black-haired man seems suspended in the air for a moment, his body arched like a bow, curved in an impossible way, but he's falling, falling, and no one is there to catch him.

The tattered veil on the dais flutters as the black-haired man passes through it, stirred by an invisible wind. His heart constricts as time crashes back to normal – he's reached the floor, he makes to run behind the veil, to help the man back to his feet. But as he sprints forward, a strong arm encircles his chest and pulls him back, chokes out words in his ear –

"_There's nothing you can do, Harry."_

––––––

He stands on the hill, looking down at the graveyard.

Two witches and a wizard stand in a ring behind a cluster of graves, facing the five cloaked men surrounding them. They exchange spells and counterspells faster than the eye can see, dueling intensely as wands become blurs and magic crackles in the air.

The wizard's straw-colored hair is matted with blood, as is the pink hair of the shorter witch. Their robes are ripped and torn and splattered with dark red, but they react quickly to curses sent their way. The second witch – black-haired, tall – awkwardly wields her wand with her left hand, slower and clumsier than the other two. Her right arm is held close to her chest, soaking her shirt with blood.

The Death Eaters have noticed this, and they aim mainly for her. Outnumbered and disadvantaged, the wizard and witches begin to falter.

A jet of orange light grazes the wizard's cheek. He tries to retaliate, but the hem of his cloak suddenly twists around his legs and he stumbles backward. The jet of green light meant for him soars past him and catches the shoulder of the black-haired witch. Her wand drops nerveless fingers as she gasps in pain; she loses her balance and falls down beside the wizard.

The witch left standing deflects a hex but doesn't move fast enough to dodge the next two spells, and she, too, crumples to the ground. The wizard frantically casts a series of Shield Charms around his companions as he scrambles back to his feet. In his desperation, he manages to disarm a Death Eater and Stun him.

A second later, his shields disintegrate. Despite her efforts, the pink-haired witch still hasn't gotten back up; instead, she casts more Shield Charms from her position. The black-haired witch staggers to her feet, her wand back in her left hand, and she fires off two jinxes before the shields disappear again.

A deflected curse hits a small marble headstone, which promptly shatters. The unfortunate Death Eater who had been standing before it is sent flying through the air. The remaining three attack with greater ferocity.

There is a scream as a jet of blue light hits the pink-haired witch in the stomach; the black-haired witch spins around to check on her friend, leaving her back exposed.

The smallest Death Eater, seeing his chance, immediately flicks his wand at her. The wizard, several paces away, sees this and shouts a warning. The black-haired witch whirls back around, her mouth half-open and her wand half-raised –

The spell slams into the witch's chest, knocking her backwards. Blood sprays out in an arc like a brilliant fountain. The wizard's mouth opens in horror as she falls, falls –

**

* * *

****3 June, 1997, 11:39PM  
Fifth floor, Hogwarts**

The smoke closed in around them, and Molly forced herself to calm down. She hadn't seen this much bloodshed since…since…

"Molly, stay close," Arthur warned. They were cautiously making their way down the seemingly-empty corridor, back toward the stairs. Molly tried to keep her gaze on the back of Arthur's head as she followed in his footsteps, tried to ignore the slick feel of the floor beneath her shoes and the bodies piled up against the wall. She took a deep breath and sought to comfort herself with the thought that her children were safe – Ginny was back in the Hospital Wing, which had been securely locked and warded and barricaded; Ron was with Hermione and Blackthorn and Drake; Fred and George had been doubled over with glee the last time she had seen them; and Bill and Charlie were wreaking right havoc back on the third floor.

"We're almost there," Arthur murmured. "Kingsley should be on the fourth – _aargh!"_

Molly screamed as Arthur stumbled backwards, his shoulder cut and bleeding profusely.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

"_Molly, get back!" _Arthur shouted, roughly shoving his wife back the way they'd come. A jet of green light shot over their heads and smashed into the wall. _"Expelliarmus! Stupefy!"_

_Curse the fog, _Molly thought as she and Arthur sprinted back down the corridor, shooting off the occasional spell over their shoulder. All they could hear was two sets of footsteps and heavy breathing chasing them.

"Here!" Arthur hissed, dragging her around the corner. Molly stood flat against the wall as Arthur chanced a quick glance at their pursuer.

"Arthur, your shoul- "

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

Cursing, Arthur ducked as another jet of green light careened around the corner. He shot back to his feet and fired off a barrage of spells. "Molly, stay back – "

But Molly wasn't in the mood to be protected. These foul Death Eaters were destroying her children's lives; they had taken her friends and family, and she wasn't about to stand back and watch them take her husband, too.

She pushed aside Arthur's restraining hand and stepped out into the corridor again. There were two Death Eaters, as she'd expected, both of them tall and brawny. Masks and hoods concealed their faces, but knowing who they were wouldn't have made a difference to her.

She and Arthur stepped forward together, their wands at the ready.

The Death Eater she faced cocked his head. "More Weasleys, hmm?" he drawled. "You'll be the last to go, and we'll be rewarded for finishing off the blood traitors!"

Fear suddenly gripped Molly's heart. _The last…to go?_

"He's lying!" Arthur shouted, advancing toward his opponent. "Don't listen to him, Molly!"

The Death Eaters merely laughed as they, too, raised their wands.

Arthur attacked.

The Death Eater quickly repelled the attack and the duel began. His companion approached Molly, lazily waving his wand back and forth. "You'll never make it out of here alive," he sneered.

"Speak," Molly snapped, sudden rage flooding her, "for yourself. _Stupefy!"_

And then they were dueling, locked in the most intense struggle Molly had ever been a part of. The Death Eater was good; surprisingly so. But all the pent-up restlessness – a result of always being left at home, to wait and fret and worry – and the constrained fury and revenge – for Bill, who would bear his scars for the rest of his life; for Charlie and Fred and George, who had given so much to the Order and asked for nothing in return; for Ron and Hermione, who had unhesitatingly sacrificed their childhoods for this war; for Harry and Ginny, who had suffered more than the rest of them put together; for Hestia and Hagrid and Albus; for _Fabian and Gideon _– all of this fueled her on.

She was _not _going to die here, not at the hands of some lousy Death Eater.

"_Stupefy! Tarantallegra!"_

The sudden force of her attacks appeared to take the Death Eater by surprise. He lurched backwards; the Stunning Charm was deflected, but her second spell caught the Death Eater's leg. He went crashing to the ground with a yell, cursing and floundering.

Seizing her chance, Molly whipped around and found the hefty length of wooden beam she had caught sight of earlier.

"_Accio beam!" _she shouted.

The wooden beam shot into her hand, and as the Death Eater stood up, snarling, she promptly brought it down on his head with all her might.

There was an almighty _crack_. The Death Eater slumped back to the ground, motionless.

She dropped the wooden beam and stepped back, shocked at what she had just done. Her arms were trembling.

She tore her gaze away and shook her head roughly. _Arthur – where's Arthur?_

There was a crash from somewhere up ahead. Heart leaping, Molly hurried forward into the fog.

"_Relashio!" _she heard Arthur yell. There was another crash; the Death Eater cursed –

Molly burst through the fog to find the two of them dueling fiercely, sparks flying from their wands. The Death Eater was limping, and Arthur had a fresh cut across his cheek. Molly cursed silently, wondering how she could get a shot in without risking the chance of hitting Arthur, too –

A sudden bang echoed through the corridor, and she saw Arthur blasted away. He hit the wall hard, his wand clattering to the floor.

"_Arthur!" _Molly screamed as she saw the Death Eater make a slashing motion with his wand. Arthur would never retrieve his wand in time – she couldn't reach him –

"_Protego!"_

The Death Eater's spell was mere inches from Arthur when a giant orange bubble popped up around him. It reverberated as the spell made contact.

The Death Eater snarled in fury, but before he could raise his wand again, a jet of red light caught him in the chest and sent him flying back into the opposite wall.

"_Dad!"_

Molly's heart seemed to stop.

There, running out of the smoke toward his father, was Percy.

Arthur snatched his wand off the floor and looked up. His eyes widened as he saw who had saved him.

"Dad, are you all right?" Percy shouted, kneeling beside his father and grabbing his shoulders. "Merlin's bloody beard, Dad, you shouldn't be up here by– Mum!"

Molly felt her eyes begin to water as her third-eldest son got back to his feet. "P-Percy…"

"What – what are you doing here?" Arthur said, the sharpness of his voice attenuated by his bewilderment.

Percy looked down at the floor, suddenly remembering that he wasn't on the best of terms with his father. "I – I was with Dawlish when Kingsley's message came in," he explained uncomfortably. "I figured everyone would be here, and I couldn't – I couldn't just let – I mean, if anything – " He stopped, sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, Dad – I – I've been a right git. I was wrong – wrong about everything – and I know sorry won't cut it, but I just – "

"Percy," Arthur interrupted gently, putting a hand on his son's shoulder. Percy looked up, surprise evident on his face. "It's all right. I know. I'm just…just glad you're here."

"Oh, Percy…" Molly breathed out a shaky sigh as she looked up at him. "I didn't know – I always hoped – "

"I know, Mum," Percy said softly, reaching out and hugging her. "I'm sorry. I just hope Bill and Charlie and –"

"Arthur!" Molly gasped, suddenly pulling back from the embrace. "Arthur, the children – "

"What happened?" Percy said sharply.

Arthur looked distraught; despite what he'd said, Molly knew that the Death Eater's words had planted that seed of doubt in his heart, too…they didn't know for _sure _if –

"The Death Eater," Arthur said tightly, "he – he mentioned – he said that all the Weasleys – said we were the last ones to go…"

"No!" Percy said, looking shocked. "That's impossible! I just saw Bill and Charlie downstairs with Fred and George! And Kingsley said Ron was with Hermione on the second floor."

Arthur sighed.

Molly buried her face in Percy's shoulder and sobbed with relief.

**

* * *

**

**3 June, 1997, 11:52PM**

The boy thrashes about, struggling against a Death Eater twice his size. His wand falls to the ground as he claws vainly at the hands around his throat.

But a roar pierces the air like a peal of thunder as a huge man comes bounding up, fury written all over his rugged face – _"GET OFF HIM!"_

And the boy is released as his captor is hauled into the air. The half-giant bellows as he lifts the Death Eater and tosses him aside like a sack of pumpkins.

"Neville," the half-giant says worriedly, peering down at the boy who is still on the ground.

"Behind you!" the boy shouts in sudden panic, staring at the three wands that have suddenly been drawn. They all point to the half-giant's back. "Hagrid, look – "

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

The boy is frozen, unable to move. Terror spreads across his face as three jets of green light blossom from the Death Eaters' wands. The eerie light of the spells illuminates the half-giant's face, brows furrowed and mouth open as he turns around, his tattered pink umbrella half-raised –

The spells slam into the half-giant's chest. The boy leaps to his feet, a heartrending cry ripped from his throat –

"_HAGRID, NO!"_

––––––

He curses the spell.

He wants to scream, wants to move, wants to be seen.

The traitor and the old man stare at each other, unaware of his presence. Hatred blazes in the dark eyes; the blue ones only reflect the light of the torch blazing on the wall.

He fights the invisible chains that render him immobile, but it's a futile struggle. Behind the traitor stand his fellow Death Eaters – three of them, four including the werewolf – all of them silently watching.

"_Severus…"_

The old man has abandoned his persuasive words. He can only beg; the plea is evident in his voice. And it scares him, far more than the Inferi in the cave, than the green liquid, than the prospect of destroying Horcruxes and facing Voldemort.

Because for the first time, the old man is at another's mercy. Everyone can see it – he no longer has control of the situation. He has lost his influence over fate, when before he could change destinies with a wave of his wand, with a single word. And the blue eyes flicker as they stare into the dark.

"_Severus…please…"_

He feels like he's choking, suffocating. Tears sting his eyes as dread fills his chest, because he knows, somehow, that the impossible is going to happen.

And the traitor's voice suddenly seems very distant as it utters the final curse; the wind howls around him as he is whirled away from the tower, away from the old man who is falling, falling –

––––––

Battle rages around him.

He stands in the midst of a bloody field; a field he soon recognizes as the grounds of his school. Spells flash and crackle and flare. People scream and fall and die. Bodies pile up around him – Death Eaters, centaurs, students, werewolves, Aurors. Acrid smoke hangs in the air like a deadly fog.

He stands in the midst of the field and wants to cry.

He just wants it to stop. He just wants there to be no more blood, no more killing, no more pain. He just wants to lie down and sleep, forever and ever, until history swallowed up this war in its dusty pages.

But the world doesn't care about what he wants – has _never _cared about what he wants. And this time, he is alone. There are no friends to protect him, to encourage him, to fight alongside him. He is alone in the darkness, in the slaughter and chaos…

_Please…please stop. I…I just want this to stop. I want to go home._

And even as he thinks this, the battle around him slowly dims. The sounds seem farther away; the spilled blood doesn't touch him…

_Is that what you want, Potter? _a cold voice whispers from across the field. _You want it to stop?_

_Well, that's a pity. Because you'll never get what you want – not anymore. From now on, we play games by my rules. I will take everything that is dear to you and destroy it; I will destroy you utterly and so completely that death will be a gift._

He turns around slowly, knowing all too well what he will face.

_Red eyes…white face…slits for nostrils…_

Lord Voldemort stands before him, a grotesque smile twisting his features.

The familiar rage burns within him, but he is too weary. Too tired to think of another spell. Too exhausted to raise his wand again. Too sick of this war, this life, to keep fighting.

_That's right, Potter. This is the end. Admit it; you always knew you could never win. Not when it comes down to raw power, because your strength comes from the part of me that resides in you. And you have defeated me, time and again, out of luck and chance. But now you've run out of both._

Voldemort reaches his hand inside his robes and draws his wand, never once looking away. He, too, is untouched by the anarchy around him. His only focus is the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen, the prophesied nemesis who has thwarted him more times than he cares to remember…

The Chosen doesn't know what to do. His wand still hangs limply by his side, pointing uselessly at the ground. He gazes into the red eyes, feeling nothing and everything at once. Hogwarts is falling; its walls crumbling, the lake tinged pink with blood, the oaken doors burned and broken. He doesn't know who has been given to death and who still fights on. And he still makes no effort to move as Voldemort's wand is raised into the air, pointing directly at his heart.

_This…_

_Is…_

_The…_

_End...!_

And then they emerge from the shadows.

Shining silver figures, glowing brightly in the dark fog, approach him. Smiling faces crowd around him from all sides, drifting past Voldemort and blocking out the carnage and the bloodshed.

The first three are instantly recognizable.

_Ron, Hermione, Ginny – _

They reach out and embrace him, filling him with sudden warmth and comfort. The next four are also endearingly familiar.

_James, Lily, Remus, Sirius – _

Other faces, familiar faces, beam at him and extend their hands.

_Neville, Luna, Dean, Seamus, Lavender, Parvati –_

He forgets the battle and smiles back, the weights gone from his shoulders. All the people he ever knew are gathering beside him in an ever-expanding sea, placing their hands on his, lending him strength.

_Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, Lee, Charlie, Bill, Kingsley, Tonks –_

Memories flash across his mind. _"Fifty feet with a broomstick!" – "Youngest player in over a century!" – "The Golden Snitch – "_

_Oliver, Angelina, Alicia, Katie, Ritchie, Jimmy, Demelza – _

He feels joy like he has never felt before – feels like a child laughing for the first time.

_Colin, Dennis, Cho, Cedric, Fleur, Krum – _

He eagerly grasps the outstretched hands. He's afraid his heart might burst from all the emotion, but he keeps searching the crowd, wanting more…

_Mad-Eye, Sturgis, Hestia, Blackthorn, Drake – _

_Hagrid, McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, Slughorn, Lockhart –_

The crowd parts, revealing Voldemort again. His smile is gone and fury blazes behind the eyes.

_You have power, Tom. You have strength that far surpasses mine. But I have something that you don't._

_I have something worth fighting for._

But something isn't right. It isn't complete – not yet.

He looks around, wondering who has been forgotten. Lily comes up behind him and wraps her arms around his shoulders; James stands beside her looking proud. Ginny holds his free hand – holds it tightly.

_Who's missing? _he asks. _Who's not here?_

No one answers him; Lily shakes her head sadly. She touches her hand to his scar, then to his heart.

He frowns. _Mum…?_

She repeats the gesture, but offers nothing more.

_Tell me, Mum. I don't understand._

Her hand drops to her side as she shakes her head again.

He stares pleadingly at her.

_Please…I don't understand._

* * *

Up Next: The battles continue, but Harry only has so much time before Voldemort decides he's not going to be stopped by a bunch of transparent silver figures… 

Yeah, we didn't put all the names because the list would probably go on for a couple pages. And yes, we realized in that first part way up there that Bella should have been asking _Wormtail _where the secret passages were, considering he was a Marauder, instead of poor old Draco. But we like torturing Malfoy, so deal with it. :)

Please review so we stop sounding so pathetic… This took so much effort to write! ;)


	26. The Last Stand

Sorry for the delay again - soccer season's in full swing and school starts later this week, so we've been even busier than usual. And sorry if this chapter sounds...choppy. We wrote it in sections because of the time constraints and...well, it sounded weird to us. Oh well. And thanks for the reviews, by the way. :)

* * *

**The Last Stand** – _Forgiveness is God's greatest gift. _–_ Manuel Aringarosa, The Da Vinci Code, Dan Brown_

"_Severus?"_

_He looked over his shoulder, frowning – he knew that voice._

"_Albus?"_

_Somehow, he wasn't surprised that the old man had found him. But it was still strange to see him, to talk to him as if nothing had gone wrong._

"_Are you still here?" Albus asked as he walked up and stopped beside him. The old man was standing so close to him that his hand brushed Albus' robes. They looked not at each other, but straight ahead._

_He was glad Albus had come. He had been standing here, just inside the Forest, watching Potter for a long time. Shining silver figures had just begun flocking to the boy, drifting out from the surrounding forest. There were so many of them that they had blocked the Dark Lord from his view._

"_I can't go any further," he said musingly. He had tried several times to follow the silver figures that kept sweeping past him, but there seemed to be a barrier around the edge of the forest – a barrier that only affected him. "Am I supposed to be over there?"_

_Albus finally turned to him, looking him up and down with a knowing glint in his eye. Frowning, Severus looked down at himself – and found that his body was the same transparent silver as the others. His frown grew as he looked back at Potter. "I _am _supposed to be there."_

_Albus smiled and turned his attention back to Potter._

"_Then why can't I go?" he asked._

"_Look at Harry," Albus said, ignoring his question. Severus felt a pang of annoyance, but he obliged. He could see Potter clearly, even though he was at least several dozen paces away. James Potter was standing behind him – they could have passed for twins – and Lily Potter had her arm around his waist. The Weasley girl held his hand while Granger and Ron Weasley stood at his side._

_Severus held his breath; how long had it been? Eighteen years – eighteen long, terrible years since he had last seen Lily Evans Potter. She was still as he remembered her – same flowing hair, same almond eyes, same bright smile…_

_He couldn't hear what was being said, but it seemed that Potter was asking her a question. In reply, she touched a hand to his forehead, then to his chest._

"_Do you see, Severus?" Albus said softly._

_Severus shook his head. Lily repeated the gesture, but Potter seemed as confused as he was. "I don't understand."_

"_You must try harder."_

_Severus looked away from Lily and glared at the old man. "I've had enough riddles, Albus. How am I supposed to try harder if I don't even know what I'm trying to _do_? Am I supposed to forgive Harry Potter? Lily Evans? James Potter? Because I can't, Albus, not on – "_

"_You know I have more faith in you than anyone else," Albus interrupted quietly. "I always have."_

_Severus stared at him, his anger slowly fading into despair.__ "…How could you be so stupid, Albus?" he whispered. "How could you trust me?"_

"_How could I not? Answer me that, Severus. How could I not?"_

"_I _killed _you, Albus! I murdered you in cold blood! I was a spy, a traitor, a double-agent. I've been relaying information to the Dark Lord for over a decade; I gave him everything he wanted. Potter told you, again and again. Nobody believed me but you. Why?"_

"_Because I know you, Severus. It's true – you gave Tom everything he asked for. But that was it, wasn't it? You gave him nothing more than what he asked for."_

"_That was for my own benefit! Not the Dark Lord's, not yours, not the Order's – mine! I work myself, and I always have!"_

"_Always?"_

_The question stopped him short._

"…_No," he answered, staring at the ground. "Not always. Not…not in the beginning."_

"_Yes. In the beginning, you worked for Tom," Albus said in a conversational tone. "You were his loyal Death Eater. I knew the Dark Arts enthralled you, as they had enthralled him. And you were drawn to his power; drawn to the fact that he, like you, was a half-blood; drawn to the idea that together you could exact revenge on the Muggles and half-bloods that had so tortured you…"_

_Albus sighed as he finally took his gaze off Potter. _

"_The Sorting Hat told me about you. Your aptitude, your potential, the traits that the Founders of this school so treasured. And I hoped I could help you exploit those talents – "_

"_So you could use me? Like you used Potter?"_

_Albus was quiet for a moment. "Everyone is used at one time or another. In a world of manipulation and deceit, there is only quick death for those who play fair. I am not saying that it is right; only that it is necessary. So yes, I used you, as I used Harry. I offered you a place here, with the Order, hoping you would be willing to join us. And I must thank you again, for trusting me then as you trusted me later."_

"…_Trusting you? Who said I trusted you?"_

_Albus looked vaguely bemused. "Don't you?"_

"_Why should I trust you?" Severus spat, his anger returning in a rush. "You deserted me! You told me all those pretty lies and then you left. Just – just like Lily."_

"_Severus," the old man said, and there was an unbearable sadness in his eyes. "Severus, I would never desert you. I never have."_

"_Yes you did!" he said furiously, hating Albus more than ever, hating that sadness, that weakness. "You're right – I did love the Dark Arts. I was the loyal Death Eater. I was useful there; I was wanted, feared, obeyed. And then _you _came to me again, told me that it wasn't what I thought it was. Told me that the Dark Lord didn't treat me – trust me – the way I deserved. Not really. And you told me about all these miracles of love – how it can heal everything, how it's the most powerful magic in the world – and you told me I could be loved. Truly loved. And I believed you, Albus. Goddamn me, I believed you."_

"_Because it's true, Severus. You know it's true."_

"_NO, IT'S NOT!" he shouted; the fact that he was losing control over his emotions only enraged him further. "Love didn't save Lily Evans, did it? Love didn't save Sirius Black, or Hestia Jones, or Rubeus Hagrid – and it's not going to save your beloved Potter, either!"_

"_No," Dumbledore said calmly, and there was the tiniest hint of steeliness in his voice. "You still don't understand."_

"_You're the one that doesn't understand," he spat. "You're a hypocrite, Albus. Oh, it was all fine and dandy then, after you'd convinced me to join the Order. You wouldn't have gotten half as far as you did without me. I'll tell you the truth, Albus – I felt good. Better than I ever had as a Death Eater. You know how to praise a man like no other._

"_But then, of course, Potter comes along – _another _Potter. And then it's Potter needs this, Potter needs that; Potter did this, Potter did that; Potter said – "_

"_He was a _boy – "

"_Even now, everything's for him. Convenient, wasn't it? Such a good excuse to forget about me," he sneered, enjoying the dismay on the old man's face. "You were just so _enraptured_ by his sparkling personality, I imagine. 'Never mind bitter old Snape; just run along, Harry, and stay out of harm's way!' Are you even aware of the sheer number of rules he's broken? How much trouble he's caused, how many lives he's cost the Order? All because of his arrogance, his pride – just like his father. But you always had an excuse for him, didn't you?"_

"_Severus – "_

"_And all that time, I was always there for you. Despite the fact that you were never there when _I _needed _you. _I came whenever you called, your obedient servant, someone to unburden yourself to, someone to fall back on, someone _expendable – _"_

"_You were never – "_

" – _Someone to do the most impossible of tasks, the dirtiest – "_

" – _Because I trusted you," Dumbledore interrupted firmly. "Because I believed in you like no one else. When others needed reassurance and encouragement, you were always steadfast and reliable. I thanked Merlin every day that you were with me; that you were one of us."_

"_You didn't act like it." He hated the petulant accusation in his tone._

"_I thought you would know," Dumbledore said softly._

"_Well I didn't," he snapped. "It was my mistake for listening to you, you and your little lies. Don't speak to me of love. You only pretended to be kind and caring when what you really wanted was to use me. You're full of nothing but manipulation and deception and lies – taking advantage of me, of Potter, of the entire Order!"_

_Dumbledore was quiet for a long, long time. Severus got the faint impression that the outline of the old man had faded, just a bit._

"…_Is that what it was?" he asked finally._

"_Don't try talking yourself out of this," Severus spat. "You can't fool me anymore. I know what you are."_

"_You were jealous."_

_Severus glared at him. _

"_Jealous of Harry. Of the attention I gave him. You felt that I no longer cared for you; that I had replaced you."_

_He remained stubbornly silent._

_The old man sighed heavily. "I see…that I have made a grave mistake. I failed to realize that the opinions of others would matter to you. I had always gotten the impression that you were too much of an independent to be bothered by such things. Too busy to care about the thoughts of an old man…"_

_He turned away, clenching his fists. _"_How could I not?" he whispered. "You were Albus Dumbledore. _Everyone _cared what you think. All the students, the staff, every member of the Order of the Phoenix…Fudge most certainly did, as well as the rest of the Ministry and the reporters, and…"_

"_I'm sorry, Severus."_

"…_even Scrimgeour took – what?"_

"_I am so very sorry for the pain I have caused. Forgive an old man his follies, won't you? I have hurt both you and Harry, far more than anyone else could have. I believed that what I was doing was for the best, but it turned out that I was mistaken. Terribly mistaken."_

_Severus couldn't speak for a moment._

"_There is no one I valued more than you. As you said, the Order owes most of its progress to your work. Harry would certainly have died – several times over – had it not been for your wise decisions, your quick actions. No one could ever have replaced you."_

_It took him another moment to realize that his face was wet._

"_I…I didn't mean to kill you, Albus, I swear it… It was never – never supposed to happen…"_

"_No, it's my fault," Albus said, shaking his head sadly. "My fault for not seeing what was so plain. My fault for placing so great a burden on your already overburdened heart…"_

"_No… I – I lost control. Everything from the past few weeks, with Draco and Narcissa…"_

"_But you came back, didn't you?" Albus said, smiling slightly. "You saw what was right, in the end, and you returned to help Harry, as I had asked." He sighed, glancing back toward Potter again. "You mustn't hate him, Severus, for being someone he didn't choose to be. Lily Evans never betrayed you, just as I never deserted you; it just happened that your paths diverged. It's been eighteen years – isn't it time you let go of that grudge?"_

_Severus closed his eyes. "But it hurt," he whispered. "It hurt so much."_

"_That's good," he heard Albus say gently. "As I have told Harry before, being able to feel pain makes you human. Although of course, Harry's immediate reaction was to tell me he would rather not be human," he added ruefully._

_A smirk crossed Severus' face before he realized it. Typical Potter._

"_You realize, Severus," Albus continued, "that you cannot go any further until you find it in your heart to accept Harry for who he is. You must not think of him as Lily and James' son, but as Harry. No more, and no less. Can you do that?"_

_Severus opened his eyes again and looked up at the old man. For the first time in over a decade, he let himself gaze fully into those blue eyes, searching for something he thought he had lost._

_Love._

"_I can," he said softly, bowing his head. "But first, I need _your_ forgiveness. eFor not believing, for turning away…for forgetting what you taught me, for committing a reprehensible act…"_

_Albus shook his head as he reached out and placed a hand on Severus' shoulder. "You are forgiven," he said without hesitation. "You have never been blamed, but since you ask, I do it willingly. I only hope that one day you and Harry can do the same for me."_

"_There is nothing to forgive, Albus," Severus said. "It was my fault – "_

_Albus cut him off with a stern shake of his finger. "You must also learn to forgive yourself. There can be no blame for things beyond our control, and there should be no charge put against things we cannot change, cannot prevent. And now, you must go before it is too late."_

_Severus glanced back at Potter. The crowd of shining figures had parted so that he and the Dark Lord were facing each other again._

"_Harry has lost his love and forgiveness, Severus. Help him find it."_

––––––

The tension is tangible. His shoulders ache and his mouth is dry.

He knows he's not ready – not yet – but Voldemort certainly doesn't care about that. He's already stepped several paces closer, a snarl on his face and a determined fury in his blood-red eyes.

_Who's missing? _he thinks desperately. He wipes his palms on his robes. He can't remember, for the life of him. _There aren't any more people coming from – _

He blinks.

Someone else – a lone figure – is approaching from the far edge of the forest. Voldemort notices him, too, and half-turns to watch the man as he draws nearer.

He can feel his heart beating just a little bit faster. _Who is it?_

Voldemort doesn't seem to care. _"It doesn't matter," _he sneers. _"One more ghost isn't going to save you."_

He ignores Voldemort and continues to watch the man intently. He can't make out the face yet, but that gait is somewhat familiar – that bearing –

His eyes widen in shock.

The man walks the rest of the way to him with his head bowed. It's impossible, and yet there is no one else he knows with that greasy, dark hair and hooked nose.

The man stops several paces before him. They both look away.

"_Potter," _the man says.

"_Snape."_

Nothing more is said. Then, slowly, Snape puts his right hand forward. It hovers over his, shaking in hesitation.

They still avoid each other's gaze.

"_Severus?"_

He looks up, startled – to see his mother reaching out her hand toward Snape's. Snape also appears stunned as he looks into Lily's eyes.

"_L-Lily?"_

"_It's been a long time."_

Snape's hand is trembling now.

"…_Yes. Eighteen years."_

"_I've missed you. I'm glad you came."_

Snape's face is frozen for a moment, a mixture of guarded disbelief and shock. And then, to his astonishment, a smile – a genuine smile – flashes across Snape's face.

"_I've missed you, too," _Snape says, and places his hand on his.

**

* * *

**

**Second floor, Hogwarts**

"It's no use," Ron said bitterly. "We've lost them."

Hermione sighed as she tried to clear the smoke around them with her wand. "If only we could _see _properly," she muttered.

"Should we just head back, then?"

"I suppose. The stairs are back there, I think…"

Ron kept his wand at the ready as he led the way down the corridor. They had been with Blackthorn and Drake just moments before, but a brief skirmish involving a rather large amount of smoke – he honestly had no idea where it all came from – had separated them. The corridors were eerily empty now – on the second floor, at least – but Ron couldn't help thinking that someone would jump out at them the second he let his guard down.

They stuck close to the walls and tread quietly as they neared the corner. It wouldn't have been the first time they'd been surprised by a Death Eater lurking out of sight.

"The stairs are this way, right?" he asked, jerking his head to the left. He was pretty sure that there was a dead end if they kept going straight.

"Yes," Hermione answered, looking around warily.

Nodding, Ron took a deep breath and stepped –

"Ron!" Hermione cried suddenly, grabbing his sleeve and pointing straight ahead. "Ron, look!"

Braced for the worst, he spun around with a spell ready on his lips.

There was no one there.

"What – " He peered through the thinning smoke, following Hermione's finger. His eyes widened. "Bloody hell – is that – that's – "

"Malfoy!"

Ron gaped. There _was _someone there, near the end of the corridor, half-buried in a pile of rubble. A broken wand lay several feet away. "No way," he said, shaking his head. "That's not Malfoy."

But there was no mistaking that white-blonde hair. Ron couldn't see his face – he was lying on his stomach and facing the other way – but he had the sinking feeling that Hermione was right.

"He – he's trapped!" she said, sounding distressed. And without further ado, she dashed forward.

Ron cursed as he ran after her. For someone with more brains than half of Ravenclaw, she had a ridiculous streak of recklessness.

Hermione knelt beside Malfoy's head. As Ron came to a stop beside them, he noticed that Malfoy was lying in a pool of blood. He seemed to be unconscious.

"Malfoy!" Hermione said fearfully as she shook his shoulder. "Malfoy! Oh – _Rennervate!"_

Malfoy stirred. He blinked several times in the torchlight and groaned. Ron winced inwardly as he saw the long, thin gash that ran along the side of his head. His right shoulder had also been torn open, and blood still oozed from a nasty-looking wound in his side.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked worriedly, peering at his head and then at his shoulder.

Malfoy squinted up at her. "Where – _Granger?_"

He grimaced suddenly and closed his eyes. His one free hand curled into a fist.

"Someone blasted the wall apart – it must have fallen on you," Hermione said, shaking her head as she rolled up her sleeves. "Ron, help me get him out – "

He sullenly obeyed her directions, painstakingly shifting the boulders off one by one. She was right – there was a big crater in the wall that indicated that someone had tried to kill someone and missed. But who would try to kill Malfoy? He was sure no one in the Order would – hurt him or capture him, maybe, but kill? And where were Crabbe and Goyle?

He looked down at his former classmate to find that he had closed his eyes.

_Git, _he thought fiercely. He resisted the urge to kick him. He still couldn't believe what he was doing – what _Hermione _was doing. What had Malfoy ever done to warrant this sort of kindness?

Ron wiped his forehead with his sleeve as the last bit of rubble was moved aside. Hermione sighed in relief, but as she moved forward to help Malfoy sit up, his eyes snapped open and he awkwardly jerked away from her touch.

Hermione withdrew her hand, looking hurt.

Ron had to turn away to prevent himself from throwing a half-dozen hexes at Malfoy. He coldly watched the white-faced boy struggle toward the wall. It took a good five minutes for him to get himself into a sitting position.

Hermione still had that worried look on her face. "I - I'll have to take your shirt off," she said – Ron grimaced as she reached out toward him – "so I can see if – "

"No!" he said, shrinking away again, and he sounded so anguished that Ron was momentarily taken aback. Hermione looked startled.

"Forget it," Ron snapped, stepping toward Hermione and putting a hand on her shoulder. "He doesn't deserve our help."

"Ron, we can't just leave him!" she protested.

"Why the bloody hell not?" Ron growled, starting to feel impatient. What was _wrong_ with her?

"He'll bleed to death!" she said, gesturing at his blood-stained shirt and robes. Ron really couldn't bring himself to care.

"Good!" he retorted.

"Ron!"

"Hermione, look at him!" he said heatedly. "This is _Draco Malfoy! _You _punched _him in third year, remember? _We don't like him!"_

"That doesn't mean we can let him die! He's one of us, a victim of circumstances – "

"He is _not _one of us," Ron said coldly, crossing his arms. "Victim of bloody circumstances, my arse. He's a _Death Eater. _Do you think that if we were in _his _situation, he'd stop to help _us?"_

"So are you saying we should sink to _his _level?" she demanded. "If we leave him here, that would make us no better than he is!"

Malfoy hadn't said anything all this time. His eyes were closed again.

Ron glanced down at the floor – he really _had _lost a rather large amount of blood.

"You can go if you don't want to help," Hermione said, turning away from him and pulling out her wand.

"What, and leave you _alone_ with him?" Ron snorted, elbowing his way past her. "You owe us, Malfoy," he scowled as he slung Malfoy's arm around his shoulders and hefted him to his feet. "You owe us _big time."_

**

* * *

**

**Third floor, Hogwarts**

"_Where's Potter?" _she snarled, glancing up and down the corridor. Bodies littered the floor – it only angered her more to see that there were far more Death Eaters among the fallen.

"We've searched everywhere," Dolohov said.

"Not everywhere," Farrell corrected. "The Hospital Wing."

She cursed herself – how could she have forgotten? "It's on this floor?"

Farrell nodded. "It should be on the opposite end of this corridor here," he said, pointing forward with his wand. "I suspect it's been warded and concealed."

"Why would he be there?" Dolohov asked, frowning. "And why would they ward a place like that?"

"Don't ask stupid questions," she snapped at him as she led the way down the corridor. She swept past the carnage without blinking an eye.

She hadn't expected this much resistance. It should have been over by now, but she could still hear the sounds of duels echoing throughout the castle. None of the floors had been secured, like she had planned. Rodolphus' forces had been routed – how, she didn't know, but she would deal with him later.

But first, she had to get rid of Potter.

Farrell muttered under his breath as he moved, scanning the area for wards. The tip of his wand glowed a faint blue. "Closer," he murmured, scrutinizing the walls. "Very strong wards on – "

"_BELLATRIX!" _someone bellowed, hurtling down the stairs up ahead and leaping into her path. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving and his tattered robes fluttering around him.

"Longbottom," she sneered. "Still alive, then? Trying to make your dear parents _proud?"_

His face contorted with fury.

"Neville!"

She glanced up to see three more people running toward her. There was a square-jawed wizard with straw-colored hair leading the way, his eyes blazing with hatred – he ran straight at Dolohov and blasted him backward with a bang.

She ignored them, letting Dolohov deal with the madman. The other two were more intriguing – her niece, Nymphadora Tonks, and the werewolf, Remus Lupin.

"Why hello, aunt," Nymphadora said dryly as she stepped up beside Longbottom. "Fancy seeing you here."

"She's mine!" Longbottom growled, trying to get in front of her.

Lupin barred his way with his arm. "Wait."

"I'll take them," Farrell said, flourishing his wand.

"I haven't seen you before," Nymphadora said, cocking her head at him as she pulled out her wand. "I suppose you're new. Have you found out what a bloody toerag my dear aunt is yet?"

Farrell bristled.

"I wouldn't talk, half-blood," Bella spat, drawing her own wand. "I should have done away with you before, like Sirius – "

Lupin clenched his fists.

Nymphadora shrugged. "Well, I'd like to rip your throat out, too," she said in a conversational tone, "but I'm afraid I already promised Remus he could have a go at you first."

Bella gritted her teeth and nodded at Farrell. He immediately lunged for Nymphadora, his wand flashing – but Nymphadora hadn't become an Auror for nothing. She countered Farrell's attack, and the two of them lurched down the corridor, spells crackling between them.

Bella looked down at Lupin and Longbottom, who were still barring her way.

"Move aside and I will spare your lives," she said quietly, bestowing them with her most imperious glare.

Neither of them batted an eyelid.

"Surrender now and _I _will spare your life," Longbottom spat.

Bella laughed. "_You _spare _my _life? Even your parents couldn't stand up to me, Longbottom. What would they say if they could see you now, you pathetic boy?"

"They would tell me to kill you," Longbottom whispered, his eyes narrowed. "They would tell me to get _revenge!"_

And he leapt forward, unleashing a curse at her. The force of the spell made her stagger, and she frowned. He was strong – stronger than before.

"Revenge for Sirius," Lupin said quietly, a controlled fire of rage burning behind his eyes as he also pointed his wand at her. "This is the end for you."

––––––

Wormtail couldn't stop trembling.

His hand shook uncontrollably as he pointed his wand at himself and whispered the words to the invisibility spell. Bellatrix was still around the corner, dueling with Remus and the Longbottom boy. None of them would notice…

He glanced down at himself to make sure the spell had worked. Taking a deep breath, he stepped around the corner and right into the middle of Bellatrix's duel.

He barely suppressed his squeal of fear as a jet of blue light smashed into the wall above his head. He immediately dropped into a crouch behind a suit of armor and peeked around it. Remus ran right past him, shouting to Longbottom and firing off a hex in Bellatrix's direction.

He could see the warded doors of the Hospital Wing from here. _A-Almost there…_

The wand in his hand seemed to shiver in his grip.

He closed his eyes and tried to muster up the courage to make the mad dash for the doors. _It's almost over. If I can just get in there…_

There was a shout; he opened his eyes to see that Tonks, the Metamorphmagus, had fallen. As Farrell bore down on her, Remus abandoned the duel with Bellatrix and ran to her aid.

"Impressive, Longbottom," he heard Bellatrix say. "You're good, for someone your age – but not good enough!"

He saw the jet of red light fly past him and hit Longbottom's foot. The boy fell heavily, and Bellatrix crowed in triumph. _"Avada Kedavra!"_

A second suit of armor – the only other one between Wormtail and the Hospital Wing – suddenly jumped out in front of Longbottom, deflecting the spell with its sword. A loud, hollow _clang _reverberated in the corridor.

Bellatrix snarled. "What – "

Wormtail saw him first – the black-robed figure that swept out through the Hospital Wing's double doors.

_Snape._

Wormtail swallowed hard.

_So that's where you've been, _he thought, cringing. _You came back. And they accepted you._

"Snape!" Bellatrix said, shocked.

"Bella," Snape replied smoothly, stopping beside the suit of armor he had bewitched. Longbottom stared up at him with a dumbfounded expression.

"You – you dirty traitor!" Bellatrix shrieked, brandishing her wand. _"You betrayed the Dark Lord!"_

Forgetting about Longbottom, she went right for Snape.

He saw his chance.

In the ensuing commotion, he scurried out from behind the suit of armor and raced for the Hospital Wing. His heart pounding, he slipped inside and quickly locked the doors behind him.

_Safe._

He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Who are you?" someone demanded sharply.

He jumped and spun around. _"St-Stupefy!" _he stuttered, and the Stunning Charm slammed into the chest of a woman who had just stepped from her office – Madam Pomfrey.

He flinched as the woman fell to the ground. _What am I doing? I can't – I can't do this…_

He shook his head roughly. _No. I have to. I have to. _Glancing around, he instantly spotted Harry lying on a bed to his left. Ginny Weasley lay asleep on the next bed over.

Wormtail hesitantly made his way to Harry's side. It had been three years since he'd gotten a proper look at the Boy Who Lived.

_He…looks just like you, James. Did I ever tell you that? Just like you._

He couldn't tell whether Harry was sleeping or not. His eyes were closed and he lay still, but his wand was gripped tightly in his hand and his expression was always changing.

_Wormtail._

Wormtail whipped around, heart beating wildly. There was no one there.

_Wormtail._

It was unmistakably the Dark Lord's voice.

_My wand, Wormtail._

Wormtail looked down at the wand gripped in his sweaty palm. He remembered, all too clearly, the night the Dark Lord had requested to switch wands.

_Look, Wormtail – this is my wand. I'm trusting you to take care of it._

How could he have refused something like that? Everyone knew the Dark Lord would require a different wand to defeat Harry Potter; Wormtail just hadn't expected it to be his.

_Wait for me. I will call you._

And he _was _being called. The Dark Lord's wand seemed to have a mind of its own – it had, after all, led Wormtail here. To its brother.

_Phoenix feather. Dumbledore's phoenix, to be exact. Interesting how that turned out, isn't it, Wormtail?_

The wand shivered again.

Wormtail glanced down at it to find that its tip was glowing red. The same red glow that Harry's wand was emitting. And suddenly, the Dark Lord's wand began to pull his hands forward, reaching inexorably toward Harry…

––––––

_This is the end, Voldemort._

He feels strength coursing through his veins. The fatigue and despair are gone, replaced by a newly energized sense of hope. The shining silver figures of his friends and family stand at his back, reassuring him as he faces his nemesis.

Voldemort looks livid, the red eyes gleaming.

He smiles grimly. _It's over. _

_You do remember the Banishing Spell? _Snape's voice says dryly.

_Of course,_ he replies.

…_Either must die at the hand of the other…_

He raises his wand.

…_For neither can live while the other survives…_

Slowly and clearly, he begins reciting the Banishing Spell. He can see his mum nodding encouragingly out of the corner of his eye as a swirling dome of color begins to form around Voldemort.

But just as the last words leave his lips, he sees Voldemort smile. And in that split second, he knows something is wrong – terribly wrong – but he can't stop the spell now.

The dome is nearly complete. His surroundings become blurry, but he can still see Voldemort clearly.

A blinding flash of red light suddenly pulses beneath the dome, making him shut his eyes.

_Voldemort's still smiling._

There is a second flash, so strong that the light pierces his eyelids.

_What…?_

Shaking his head roughly, he looks up.

Dread fills him all over again.

_He's gone._

* * *

Up Next: Where in the world is Tom Riddle? 

Dun dun dun... Four chapters left! Good time to start reviewing, right?


	27. A Debt Repaid

Hmm... So, despite the fact that this is pretty much the climax of our story, we've probably slacked off the most with this chapter than any other. Not good, but school's a killer this year. English, funnily enough, is the bane of our existence. Anyway, about the chapter itself...we might've used too many dashes in the first couple paragraphs, but hey, we're just dash-happy. The vocabulary's a bit unoriginal and repetitive, too, since we didn't have enough energy to be creative. :P And sorry we didn't elaborate much on the battle; we're just sick of all this action crammed into a two-hour plot time period. Actually, we're just sick of action scenes in general. They're getting bland. Blah.

**Edit, 9/30/07** - We made some minor edits and reuploaded this chapter, based on the suggestions of some reviews. Thanks very much!

**

* * *

A Debt Repaid **– _"Men fear death as children fear to go in the dark." – Francis Bacon_

**Third floor, Hogwarts**

Kingsley skidded around the corner just in time to see Bellatrix fall. Two jets of light – one red, one blue – had just slammed into her chest, dissipating slowly, illuminating her twisted features. Her wand hit the floor first, falling from nerveless fingers – her body followed a second later, with nothing more than a dull _thump._

For a moment, the only thing Kingsley could hear in the dim corridor was the heavy sound of Snape and Neville's breathing. Further down the corridor, a blood-spattered Sturgis was standing over the motionless body of the Death Eater who had killed Hestia – Dolohov. Remus and Tonks – not hurt, for once – were beside him, their adversary nowhere to be seen.

They all stared at the heap of black robes on the floor – still wary, disbelieving – as if they expected her to leap back to her feet at any moment.

_Bellatrix…dead?_

She had been, without a doubt, the most wanted Death Eater in history. The bane of the Aurors, the nightmare of the Ministry. Her list of victims consisted of more people Kingsley had known – Gideon, Fabian, Frank, Alice, Sirius – than any other Death Eater.

But before Kingsley could move – before he could ask what happened, where everyone else was – Hermione and Ron burst into view on the second floor corridor at the foot of the stairs, carrying Draco Malfoy between them. They stopped beside the railing, panting and looking up at Kingsley with relief. Ron quickly removed Malfoy's arm from around his neck and let him fall.

"It's Malfoy," Hermione said breathlessly, gesturing toward the half-conscious boy slumped on the ground. "He's – "

"Just leave him here," Ron interjected, putting a foot on the first step and looking down at Malfoy with a disgusted look. "I'm not doing anything more for him."

"Ron!" Hermione began furiously.

"It's all right, I'll get him," Kingsley said, descending the stairs toward them. Hermione crossed her arms and glared at Ron, who pointedly looked away. "What happened?"

"We lost Professor Blackthorn and Professor Drake on the second floor," Hermione explained as Kingsley bent down to inspect Malfoy's injuries, "so we were heading back here when we saw Malfoy. It looked like someone had blasted the wall apart, and he was buried beneath the rubble. We got him out well enough, but he wouldn't let me take off his shirt."

The scorn was evident on Ron's face.

Kingsley shook his head as he saw the various cuts and gashes Malfoy sported. He muttered a few simple healing spells before getting back to his feet.

"It's nothing critical. We'll need Madam Pomfrey to get a look at him," he said.

As if on cue, there was a scream from the Hospital Wing.

––––––

Remus burst into the Hospital Wing, taking everything in with one glance – Harry, standing in the middle of the room with his wand; Wormtail, facing him; Madam Pomfrey, unconscious on the floor; Ginny, sitting up in her bed looking frightened.

Neither Harry nor Wormtail appeared to notice as the others rushed inside.

"Harry!" Hermione gasped; at the same time, Ron exclaimed, "You!" as he pointed at Wormtail.

Wormtail ignored him; he and Harry were staring intently at each other. Both of their wands were glowing a faint shade of red.

"Harry, what – "

"Wait," Snape said sharply, barring Hermione's way. His narrowed eyes were studying Wormtail. They were all quiet for a moment, watching the silent staring contest playing out before them. Harry's face was flushed and his eyes dull and feverish; Wormtail's face glistened with sweat. Both of them were swaying slightly on their feet, their legs shaking.

Remus cursed inwardly – whatever had happened, it was apparent that Harry was still weak. It seemed to take tremendous effort for him just to remain standing.

Wormtail's mouth suddenly moved. Remus could barely catch what he was saying – he seemed to be struggling against himself, one part trying to speak and the other trying not to.

"_C-Can't… Pot…ter… Out…!"_

And then he seemed to snap. He whirled around with a sharp crack and fired a curse in Kingsley's direction before Remus could register what had happened.

"_Duck!" _Snape bellowed.

There was a sharp crack and the sound of something shattering as Remus dove to the floor. Jets of light careened around the room as Wormtail screamed. His incoherent shouts were punctuated by bouts of maniacal laughter.

_He's gone mad. Wormtail's gone insane, _Remus thought grimly as he rolled out of the way of a jet of orange light. He leapt back up to his feet and dodged another hex. Shards of glass lay all over the floor and it seemed as if something new was smashed every two seconds.

Ginny scrambled out of her bed, snatching her wand up from the bedside table as she went. Ron and Hermione darted past Wormtail to her side. Sturgis had dragged Madam Pomfrey into a corner and was trying to revive her.

"Watch out!" Tonks cried from across the room – Remus barely cast a Shield Charm in time to deflect a curse aimed for him. Instead of dissipating, however, the curse ricocheted off his shield and crashed into the wall behind him. He yelled in shock as he crouched down and covered his head with his arms, bits of rubble falling around him.

Kingsley was suddenly beside him, helping him to his feet. "We've tried Stunning him, it doesn't work!" he shouted over the sound of Wormtail's destruction of the Hospital Wing. "Snape thinks we should just kill – "

"_Harry!"_

Remus looked around to see that Hermione, Ron, and Ginny had taken cover behind Ginny's bed; it was Ginny who had cried out. Ron was holding her back, preventing her from leaving as Hermione cast shields around them.

Kingsley pointed – Remus followed his finger to see Harry sitting against the wall between the two beds, a green shield shimmering around him. It emitted a steady, low hum as the spells Wormtail rained down on him rebounded off it.

"_POTTER!" _Wormtail screamed, dragging the word out in an agonized screech. It made Remus shudder.

Harry closed his eyes in response, and for a split second Remus thought he was dead. But the shield stayed up; the humming grew louder as the force of Wormtail's spells increased.

Snape was standing to the side, muttering under his breath and firing off an occasional spell. None of them seemed to affect Wormtail, who was focused entirely on Harry now. He either couldn't hear anything that was being said or was ignoring it; he had never once acknowledged that there were others in the room.

And as Remus watched him screaming and flailing like he was being tortured from within, he couldn't help but wish that it wasn't Wormtail who had to suffer. On some deep level – despite the fact that he had betrayed Lily and James, despite the fact that he had become a murderer and helped bring Voldemort back – it hurt to see Wormtail like this.

Besides, it had been their fault – his, James', Sirius's – for not seeing that Wormtail was too weak. Too insecure to handle such a burden as protecting a life, too uncertain to defy the threat of death.

"Peter!" Remus called out, hoping that somehow, hearing his name would bring Wormtail to his senses. "Peter!"

Wormtail jerked around, as if the sound of his name was a physical force that tore his attention away from Harry. He and Remus stared at each other in shock.

The eyes that locked on to Remus' were not Peter's small, watery eyes.

_His eyes are red._

The realization hit Remus a moment later – _he's been possessed. _

Even as the thought flashed through his mind, Snape shouted, "That's not Wormtail!"

"Peter," Wormtail – could he still be called Wormtail? – whispered. And his eyes flickered.

Remus caught a glimpse of Peter's frightened gray eyes before they reverted back to red.

_What the hell is going on?_

Wormtail screamed again, sparks flying from his wand as he twisted and writhed like a marionette. _"STOP!" _he shrieked, blasting a hole in the wall above Tonks' head. Remus heard Kingsley curse as spells began flying and crackling around the room again.

_How could Voldemort possess Wormtail? There's only one piece of his soul left, which is in Harry. Unless…_

"We can't keep this up!" Kingsley said in Remus' ear as they cast shields around themselves. "If we don't stop him soon, he'll destroy – "

"Kingsley," Remus interrupted, grabbing his arm. "We have to kill Wormtail! I don't understand it, but somehow Voldemort's soul was transferred from Harry to Wormtail – that's why his eyes are red! We just have to kill Wormtail now!"

Kingsley looked at him incredulously. "His soul – what?"

But Remus had already turned away from him. He tried to get Snape's attention, his heart pounding wildly – _can it be true? _Voldemort had just saved Harry's life – it was so easy now, they just had to kill Wormtail – if only –

"Wormtail."

Harry's voice reverberated in the room. It sounded old; old and heavy, with the weight of something so dark and forlorn that Remus was momentarily frozen with despair.

The room fell dead silent. Everything stopped; Remus felt as if he had been immobilized. There was only the sound of panting as all eyes turned to Harry. Wormtail, his red eyes gleaming, gazed levelly at him.

"Wormtail," Harry said softly. "Do you remember?"

The question echoed in Remus' mind. _Do you remember?_

_No._

He tried to move forward, but he was stuck. He tried to speak, only to find that his mouth was similarly frozen.

_No!_

"Do you remember…your debt?"

––––––

Ron had sensed that there was something wrong, right since he had stepped into the room. It was the tension, so thick it felt like he was wading in it, coupled with the fact that _Wormtail _– the traitor whom Ron hadn't seen since the end of third year – was there, facing Harry. And there was that feeling – that sense of impending doom.

He felt it more strongly now, staring at Wormtail's red eyes. He could hear Remus yelling that they had to kill him, that somehow the Horcrux in Harry's body had been transferred to Wormtail's – it made sense, didn't it? – that all they had to do was _kill Wormtail. _Ginny was still struggling against his hold, crying Harry's name over and over again.

And Ron didn't understand why they couldn't just go and _kill Wormtail already _because it was taking all the willpower he had not to run to his best friend's side. He had to fight the urge to let Ginny go, because it kept looking like each breath Harry took would be his last. Even his shield seemed more fragile as it hummed against the force of the spells Wormtail threw at him.

But it would be death for them if they stepped beyond Hermione's shields.

"_Kill him!" _Remus was shouting frantically, ignoring Kingsley's attempts to calm him down. Snape got the message – he was pointing his wand at Wormtail –

"_Wormtail."_

Ron immediately felt his body stiffen, as did Ginny's within his grip. Ginny stopped screaming, Remus wasn't shouting; everyone was silent. Only Ron's eyes moved, and he fixed them on Harry – Harry, who looked so utterly exhausted. His shield was gone, and sitting before Wormtail without it, he seemed so vulnerable. Defenseless in the way of any regular seventeen-year-old boy, with no aura of power, no bearing of a hero.

"Wormtail, do you remember?"

Ron didn't understand. _Remember what? _He hated how weary Harry sounded, like he had given up.

_Not now, mate. Not here. Not when we've made it this far._

"Do you remember…your debt?"

He caught the alarm that flashed across Remus' face; saw Wormtail stop short. Ron couldn't think for the life of him what that meant – couldn't imagine what Wormtail would owe Harry.

But then he saw something else that made his blood run cold.

_Harry's eyes were red._

And he could only think, for a moment, that Remus was wrong – the Horcrux hadn't been transferred after all, it was something else – something terrible, much, _much _more terrible.

_They're both possessed._

How had it happened? What, when – but he realized that all those things didn't matter. What mattered was _what to do now? _They could still kill Wormtail, but then they'd be back to square one. Harry would still be a Horcrux.

They were hissing at each other. It frustrated Ron that he couldn't understand any of it. Keeping his eyes locked on Harry, he tried moving – with no luck. It was as if Harry had cast Full-Body Binds on everyone in the room.

Harry was struggling visibly now, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he spoke. His eyes flashed, changing colors rapidly – red, green, red, green. It was, Ron realized, a battle of dominance. The same thing was happening with Wormtail.

Harry suddenly stopped hissing. He shut his eyes tightly and it was quiet in the room.

The tension made Ron's head feel like it was on the verge of bursting. _What in bloody hell did they say? What are you hiding, Harry?_

The silence seemed to stretch into eternity, and Ron almost forgot where he was. His ears were buzzing, his head pounding.

_When this is over, I'm going to sleep. I'm going to sleep and I'm not getting up until these memories are a blur. Gone. Lost in time._

Harry's mouth moved again, but Ron couldn't catch what he said. Wormtail replied – Ron saw _his _mouth moving, too, but it was as if someone had suddenly plugged his ears. He had always been terrible at reading lips – that was a talent of Fred and George – and the little experience he'd had failed him now. He could only swivel his eyes back and forth, watching their mouths moving.

There was a bright spark in both of their eyes. It was almost fascinating, the way the colors changed – green to red to green in Harry's, gray to red to gray in Wormtail's.

And then Ron's hearing returned abruptly. It took him a moment to register the fact that someone had spoken.

"Wormtail…knows a spell," Harry murmured. "We…can trust…him."

Beads of sweat were running down the rat-faced man's face – he seemed almost as exhausted as Harry as he fought to keep Voldemort at bay. Ron cursed himself, cursed the magic, cursed Harry – it didn't matter whether he trusted Wormtail or not, because he couldn't move to stop him.

"He…can get rid of – of Voldemort's soul. In me. But you…you have to… Promise me that you - you'll help him…help him get rid of Voldemort – in him. Promise me."

It seemed a foolish request, seeing as none of them could speak. But slowly, as Harry looked around at each of them, he seemed to gain a response. At last, his gaze rested upon Ron.

_Promise me, Ron._

_I can't, Harry. I can't!_

_Promise me._

_I can't – _

_Promise._

The tears welled in his eyes; unstoppable, unwilling.

_I promise._

He turned to Wormtail, who had already raised his wand.

"Do it," Harry said softly.

"Potter," Wormtail said to him. There was no mockery in his tone, no hatred. Just simple acceptance of what had to be done. "My life debt to you is fulfilled." He took a deep breath, and Ron knew there was something wrong.

_Life debt?_

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

Up next: Wormtail has repaid his life debt…but he's still possessed.

Not exactly sure what the whole life debt thing really means. jynky thought it was strictly a life-for-a-life sort of thing, where since Harry saved Wormtail's life, Wormtail in turn would have to save Harry's at one point. But I thought it just meant that Wormtail owed Harry something - i.e. he had to do something that Harry wanted him to do without question. jynky's probably right, but that would mess up our plot. So...yeah. Just thought I'd elaborate on that. :) And please, please review! There's only three chapters after this one, I think...

-TFC

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	28. Darkness and Light

Hey, y'all. Amazingly short chapter, but the next one should be longer (and, consequently, take longer to write). Two more after this, in case anyone's keeping track, so please review!

And we're going to take this opportunity to say that Hope Solo and Greg Ryan are both idiots; congrats to The Greatest Team You've Never Heard Of for winning third place; and a big cheer for Deustchland and Birgit Prinz, who really looks like a man. :)

By the way, we've edited and reuploaded the previous chapter. For this one, excuse the pun in the third paragraph. Really didn't mean it.

* * *

**Darkness and Light** _**– **__Darkness cannot run out darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot run out hate, only love can do that. – Martin Luther King Jr._

Remus' mind went completely blank. For several blissful seconds, he lost his sense of feeling, his hearing, his thoughts. He could only see, with a vague detachment, and so he uncomprehendingly watched the jet of green light hit Harry in the chest.

His hearing must have returned after that moment, because he could hear himself breathe. There was nothing else in that room; just the sound of his breathing. And, very distantly, the sound of someone's heart beating wildly. He couldn't imagine whose it was. All he knew was that it wasn't his, because his had just died.

It was quiet otherwise. Deathly quiet. He wished something would happen, wished someone would say something, because the silence was hurting his ears. It pressed into him, sort of made it harder to keep breathing.

And then, into that strange, thick silence, someone whispered his name.

"…Harry?"

He turned toward the voice – only dimly aware that he could move again – to see that Ginny had stood up.

There was no answer. Of course there was no answer. There _couldn't _be any answer, because –

Because what?

He frowned.

The jet of green light had hit Harry in the chest, right? And that meant – but who was he to say what that meant? It had happened before, hadn't it? The same exact thing –

No, it hadn't been the same. No one had seen it the first time, no one could say for sure whether that first curse had really hit Harry, or whether –

"Harry," the voice said, a little louder this time, more insistent. Ginny had climbed over the bed that separated her from Harry and was kneeling beside him. Hermione and Ron were beside her, both of them looking stricken, disbelieving. "Harry."

A note of desperation – a hint of hysteria – had crept into her voice.

There was still no answer. No reaction.

Ginny gave up trying to say his name, and it was silent again.

Remus didn't dare move. He was afraid he would fall apart if he did, simply crumble into little pieces on the floor right then and there.

And it was, strangely enough, Wormtail who cracked first. Then again, as Remus saw, it wasn't really Wormtail, was it? _His eyes are still red _– Voldemort had taken over now, taken over completely. Wormtail was gone. It was only his body, his shape, his voice.

Spells were crackling again, rocketing past him, dangerously close to his head. Wormtail was laughing madly, firing curses and hexes off with abandon, not caring who they were aimed at and what they hit. The room fell into chaos once more, and Remus was almost glad. It gave him something to think about, something to focus on other than – other than what had happened – and he thought it wouldn't be so terrible to die here, because then he wouldn't have to face the truth…

* * *

She felt the tears flood her soul, drowning her heart, choking her. But they never made it to her eyes. She fought back calmly. 

Because it felt like a part of her had died, and you didn't cry when you died. You didn't mourn, you didn't grieve.

You simply weren't there anymore.

But she couldn't stop herself from thinking – _How could this happen? _There was supposed to be a miracle – he was Harry _Potter, _for Merlin's sake – there _had _to be a miracle.

But many things that were supposed to happen in this war hadn't. And she knew, as a plain, cold fact, that there wasn't going to be any miracle this time.

She avoided looking at him. She would falter if she did, and that was the last thing she needed. She had to focus now – find an anchor, something to hold onto before she succumbed to shock and grief.

And she found it beside the tears in her soul. Found a spark of hatred and revenge and anger so _powerful _that it blew everything else away.

So she fought with a clear mind, a flawless clarity that should have disturbed her, if just a little bit. She easily dodged the curses rebounding off the walls and ricocheting from the ceiling. She came to Ron and Hermione's aid more than once, pulling them out of harm's way or swiftly deflecting curses headed towards them.

But she soon saw that evading Wormtail's spells wasn't enough. Despite the aimlessness of his attacks, there was a controlled mania to his movements that made him all the more dangerous. Although most of his curses were fairly easy to evade, they came quickly and relentlessly, making any effective counter-attacks nearly impossible to pull off. Merlin knew how long Wormtail could keep this up, but it was clear that fatigue was beginning to affect the others. At this rate, there would just be more casualties.

_He needs to be distracted, _she realized as she ducked a shower of debris from overhead. _He has to focus on one thing – one person – for a moment so that the others can attack him._

And she saw it clearly, saw what she had to do, and she knew it must have been the same way for Harry. Knowing what you had to do, accepting it because it was right; nothing more.

She grabbed Ron's arm to get his attention. He still seemed dazed, but he was holding his own against Wormtail's spells. "I'm going to create a diversion," she said quietly. "When I give you the signal, attack Wormtail with everything you've got. Tell the others."

"What diversion?" he asked, furrowing his brows, but she shook her head.

"There's no time. Just do it, okay?"

"Ginny – "

She had already moved away from him, already started muttering shield charms under her breath. She stoked her fury as she worked, channeling the emotion and using the energy to enhance her spells. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ron reluctantly move toward Hermione.

When she was satisfied that the shields would hold, she shifted so that she had a clear shot at Wormtail.

"Voldemort!" she shouted, blasting him with a Reductor Curse so powerful it finally got his attention. He turned on her, his eyes gleaming and a snarl twisting his face.

Raising her wand, she charged forward. His first attack didn't penetrate her shields, or the second or the third. She looked straight ahead as she plowed on, and fear began flickering across Wormtail's face as she drew closer.

"_Ginny!" _someone yelled. _"Ginny, get _–_ "_

She let her momentum carry her, and she flung herself at him. Spells tore through her being, welling up from her soul and bursting from her wand – she felt her shield finally tear, disintegrate – she saw the lights, cast from Ron and Hermione's wands, slam into his body – she heard his scream – she looked up into his face, the frightened red eyes, and grinned.

_This is for Harry, Voldemort. This is his message. You can never kill him, as you could never kill Dumbledore. He lives on in the world he fought to protect from your tyranny, and so long as we're here, you will never win._

Voldemort's eyes locked on hers, and she could _feel _his rage, his power.

The wand flashed.

Green light lanced through the room.

Wormtail's mouth opened in a scream of pain and horror.

* * *

Ron saw the man before him, screaming, saw his sister's body sprawled on the floor. 

Golden light leapt from his wand toward Voldemort. Shields flared around the Dark Lord as he countered the attack.

But Ron did not falter.

Other beams of light joined his – Hermione's, Lupin's, Snape's, Kingsley's. Their magic formed a vibrant golden bubble around Voldemort, whose red shield pulsed beneath the attack.

* * *

The room was filled with light. Light everywhere, and Hermione was filled with a rush of _power_ so great it made her scream, ripping the sound raw from her throat. It was power like she'd never felt before, never imagined. It filled her, filled the wand in her hands, filled Ron, filled everything she could sense save for the writhing black form before her. 

She struck, plunging the radiance in her hands into the darkness that thrashed before them. She felt the light fountain through her, filling the darkness, filling the man, obliterating it as utterly as sunlight destroyed shadow.

Blinding her.

There was a final scream. She heard it with more than her ears. She seemed to hear it with every fiber of her body. It echoed and reverberated through her being.

It seemed to stop her breath, just for a moment.

* * *

Up next: The battle is over. The scars remain. 

Like we said, the next one might take a while, so bear with us. In the meantime...please review!


	29. The Price of War Part 1

So...it's been three weeks? This is indeed the last chapter (excluding the epilogue), but we had to split it up into two parts again because we still haven't finished the second part and it'll probably take us until next year to do so. Thanks for being patient with us and our whacked-up story that has somehow dragged on for months. :)

_If someone said three years from now  
You'd be long gone  
I'd stand up and punch them out  
Cause they're all wrong  
I know better  
Cause you said forever  
And ever  
Who knew  
_- **Who Knew**, by **Pink**

_

* * *

_**The Price of War** **(Part 1) **_– "Everyone must leave something behind when he dies…Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you're there. It doesn't matter what you do…so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that's like you after you take your hands away." – Granger, Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury_

He was falling. Falling, falling, tumbling through everything and nothing, past eternity. Nobody cared; nobody seemed to understand that he was falling, that he was going to crash because there was no one left to catch him.

_

* * *

Dead._

Funny word, he thought. _Dead. _Just four letters. Not nearly enough to contain everything it entailed.

_Dead. _It had a hollow ring to it, the word itself, reinforcing that sense of emptiness. That feeling of _nothing, _of nonexistence. Was that what had happened? A simple ceasing of existence?

Drained away – something drained away – what was it? The soul? The laughter, love, life? Just leached out of a body, leaving behind a cold, unfeeling shell. A meaningless husk. But why, then, did that mere physical resemblance make his heart ache?

But then who was it to say that it had ever been real? Everything – through all those fleeting years, endless moments – anger, happiness, resentment, sorrow, pleasure, regret – if all of that could disappear in the blink of an eye, then what was it worth?

It hurt too much to think. Just that word, tolling its hollow knell in his mind, reminding him again – ever again – that he had lost.

_Dead._

_You always were a selfish bastard. Both of you. Rushing headlong into things, fixed on one course of action, taking things as they came. Never thinking about how other people would feel. Never stopping to think about the consequences. Idiots. That was _my _job, dammit. That was supposed to be me._

What did it mean? Death. Gone? An absence – absence of what? And why in the name of Merlin did it have to _hurt _so much? Why did it feel like a corporeal pain – but maybe he was imagining it? Was he delirious now, going insane?

Intensity, passion, strength, blown away with the force of a breath – snuffed out, and not even brutally, but just – just like that. The things that embodied life – its signature, as it were – vanished without a trace, without anything to indicate that it had ever been.

Not alive. Dead meant…not alive. No longer able to feel, to touch, to see. No longer capable of passionate love, of powerful words, of all-consuming mirth.

That was the bodies before him, as still as the stars fixed in the sky, bled dry of life.

_Yes, _he decided. _That's what death means. Not alive._

**

* * *

4 June, 1997, 5:10AM**

He sat in the Great Hall; his back against the wall, beside the doors.

Hermione had fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder, tears still wet on her face. He had one arm around her, holding her tightly, because he knew he'd float away if he didn't.

The tables had been pushed against the walls. Blankets were spread out everywhere, like the one he and Hermione were sitting on. They were mostly dark purple or nondescript brown, though there were several bright red and rich green ones dotting the crowds. They were all old and worn, fraying especially around the edges. Thin, too; his, at least, hardly kept the cold from the floor from seeping up into his clothes.

The other students – _all _the other students – were here too, sitting as he was against the walls. Those with more serious injuries were on the opposite side of the Hall, being tended to by Healers. Several Medi-Wizards were making their way around to the rest of the students, checking them over for cuts and bruises, occasionally offering potions for nausea or hysteria.

Every so often there were loud _pop_s, announcing the arrival of fraught, panic-stricken parents and siblings. Aurors would move to accommodate them, to help them find their children.

The Aurors were _everywhere, _bustling around with their businesslike airs, moving swiftly through shadows made darker by the blazing candles, their voices raised in an irritating hubbub, calling to each other over the sound of people crying and moaning and trying to comfort each other even though it should have been all they could do to comfort themselves.

Kingsley and Mad-Eye were talking to one of these Aurors, who scribbled notes in a little book as he listened intently. Remus and Tonks had left earlier with a team of Hit Wizards who had come to take Snape and Malfoy into custody. Sturgis had been sent to St. Mungo's along with several others; he had sustained a head injury somehow, during the fight.

And there, to his left, where the Gryffindor table would have been, someone had brought out a scarlet and gold banner. Two bodies had been laid there, side by side, as reverently as was possible in the mess.

Mum was nearby; he could still hear her sobbing hysterically, repeating the words over and over – _my baby, my baby, my baby…_ Dad was holding her, trying to comfort her but failing miserably because he was falling apart too.

He could see Fred and George kneeling on either side of them, heads bowed; Bill and Charlie shocked, shattered; Percy like he was floating in a dream and just waiting to wake up.

Others crowded around them, too; their eyes filled with hushed awe, or maybe terrible sorrow.

Either way, he didn't care. He didn't care about anything anymore, really, and he didn't want anything except maybe for everyone to go away so that he could sleep.

He'd been about to close his eyes when suddenly Dean and Seamus came dashing into the Hall, frantically scanning the room. Their eyes lit upon him and they immediately ran over, their faces flooded with relief.

"You're here!" they cried together, falling to their knees beside him.

"McGonagall told us you were, but we had to see," Seamus said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, thank Merlin you're all right," Dean said, shaking his head. "Neville's okay, too, and everyone else from the PA's still alive."

"Harry and Ginny aren't."

Seamus winced; Dean looked away quickly. Ron felt a slight twinge. He hadn't meant to blurt it like that. They'd been Dean and Seamus' friends as much as his.

But it was unfair for those two deaths to hurt so much more than all the rest. It seemed that the price Harry and Ginny had paid summed up for him every loss he'd suffered in the world.

"I'm sorry," Seamus said, unable to look him in the eyes. "I know – if you could you would've died in his place. Her place."

"Any of us would have," Dean whispered, his voice breaking.

* * *

They declared it a victory. The Aurors, the Ministry, the board of governors, the newspapers. It seemed as if the world itself was humming beneath his feet, rejoicing for what the Daily Prophet called "The Final Triumph." 

There were celebrations in the streets that lasted hours upon hours. There were calls to make the day a national holiday. There were toasts and moments of silence and plans to build memorials and write books and speeches and songs. There was not a single wizard in the world, it seemed, who did not have a smile on his face.

But the heroes were still dead, and he would miss them. Miss them and cry for them and feel a pain so strong and _complete _that it would never go away. No victory could sweeten the bitterness of that loss; only soften its horror.

He knew that no cost would have been too high to save the world. He had told himself that, over and over, for the past year. He had been prepared to spend himself, his friends, and everything he loved to gain that victory. But the one price he had never thought to pay was to stand alive in the aftermath and count the dead.

It was hard. Too hard.

But it was what Harry meant, he realized. The price of all the magic, the death, the destruction.

He had to forgive himself for being alive. He had to accept that he was still here – he and Hermione – just as Harry and Ginny had accepted that they had to die.

"_We've won!" _revelers shouted over the wireless. _"We've won the battle, we've won the war!"_

He never stayed long to listen. What was the point?

Besides, he'd rather have had his friend and his sister back.

**

* * *

6 June, 1997, 8:00PM**

It seemed as if the entire world had gathered together to bid their last farewell to the heroes.

The only other funeral he had ever been to was Dumbledore's, and, looking back, that seemed like a private little gathering compared to this one. The Disapparation Jinxes on the area hadn't been lifted, which meant that everyone had to first Apparate to Hogsmeade and then walk all the way to the grounds.

That apparently didn't deter anyone, for there were more people congregated on the lawns than he had ever seen. And they kept coming, tramping in a steady line that snaked around the castle from Hogsmeade. Most didn't care that there weren't enough chairs; they were all willing to simply stand in the back, grateful that they had even been allowed to attend.

Front row seats were reserved, in general, for those who had directly fought in the war. The left side was set aside for the Minister of Magic and his Heads of Department, who all looked very somber in their black robes and their grave expressions. The two giant representatives, along with Madame Maxime and Grawp, sat off to the side. The merfolk could be seen crowded under the surface of the lake, and the centaurs, who hadn't even shown themselves for Dumbledore, had stepped forth from the forest and stood beside the giants.

Aurors and Hit Wizards and other Ministry members that had come to pay their respects filled the seats behind the Minister. The Aurors looked uncomfortable, having been deprived of their usual patrolling and guarding duties. He wondered, briefly, what would happen to them, now that the Dark had been defeated.

He suddenly caught sight of a short, dumpy woman wearing a squat black hat with rather dreadful-looking pink flowers in it. As she glanced around the crowd, he saw her face, the nightmarish features unchanged from that horrendous year – _Umbridge._

And he abruptly pictured what Harry's expression would be like if he knew that woman was at his funeral, and it took a great effort not to start laughing.

He, Hermione, and his family were sitting on the right, with the lake beside them. Mum was crying again, sobbing into her handkerchief as Percy and Mrs. Granger attempted to console her. Charlie and his friends sat behind him, while Bill was with Fleur and her family. Lee Jordan was there, trying to cheer up Fred and George; neither of them had said a word since that day in the Great Hall.

The Hogwarts staff and students filed in next, accompanied by their families. Neville and Luna were together with Neville's grandmother and Luna's father, a slightly crazed-looking man in a floppy hat. Dobby was seated beside Neville, large teardrops cascading down his cheeks and soaking the tea-cozy he held twisted up in his lap.

The former Gryffindor Quidditch team was there; Oliver, Angelina, Alicia, and Katie, huddled together next to Professor Flitwick. Even Cho had shown up, along with Cormac McLaggen. He hoped fervently that neither would approach him.

People from all around the country – maybe the world, even – filled whatever space was left. The bartenders from the Leaky Cauldron and the Hog's Head; the shopkeepers from Hogsmeade and store owners from Diagon Alley; members of the Weird Sisters and players from Puddlemere United and the Holyhead Harpies and the Tornados; authors he recognized from his mum's cookbooks and magazines.

And, of course, there was the expected gaggle of reporters and journalists, standing together in a pack. But by unspoken agreement, they had been shunted far off to the side, where it was hardest to see, hardest to hear.

There was a low hum in the air as the anticipated time drew near. The Hogwarts ghosts began slipping through the walls of the castle to shimmer over the lake.

Although the coffins would be buried closer to the school, near where Dumbledore's white tomb stood, the ceremony itself would take place at the edge of the lake. It glowed more vibrant than he could remember ever having seen it.

Inadvertently, his thoughts drifted back to the last time they had sat in this spot – him and Harry and Hermione and Ginny. That was the last time they'd been together, all four of them, in peace. Not talking about war or death or fighting – just being who they were, the way they used to be.

And it was so painful it was almost funny, how much he missed them – how the regrets flooded through him and the words he'd left unspoken choked him – all that time he'd wasted, never thinking it could end this way. If someone had told him, then, that in little more than a month they'd be gone, he would have laughed. He honestly would have laughed, because Harry was the goddamn _hero, _and heroes didn't die. Heroes always triumphed and went home to their happy endings at the end of the day, the bloodshed already behind them as they marveled over the miracles and the mistakes and the moments where it _could have gone wrong._

And Ginny – Ginny was the youngest, the little girl, sheltered and treasured and made fun of, for sure, but never _in danger _because – well, because she simply wasn't _supposed _to be.

But this whole thing _wasn't supposed to be _– he shouldn't have been at _his little sister's_ funeral at the age of eighteen.

It was just funny, really, a complete joke.

Funny, how he'd never – since that day on the Hogwarts Express – ever told Harry that he was the best friend a person could have asked for. Never told Harry that he was thankful for the times Harry had stuck by him, that he was proud of his courage and determination, and that he was _sorry, sorry, sorry _for ever being jealous and stupid and snobbish.

Funny, how he'd never – in _eighteen_ years – ever told Ginny that he loved her. Not once, not in seriousness – his own sister. Never really thought about Ginny as a _person _before, never realized what sort of comfort she had been, so much a _necessity _to the family that without her, everything was falling apart.

He wanted to tell her that. He wished she were alive again, if just for a moment, so that he could tell her that.

_I love you, Ginny._

_Diversion my arse. Why'd you have to go and do that, you idiot? I love you…_

And he had never told either of them that he had, for a long time – maybe from the beginning – approved of them being together.

"Ron," Hermione whispered in his ear, her voice breaking. "Ron."

He glanced at her, then realized that the ceremony had started. He turned, as everyone else already had, toward the aisle.

The Order – McGonagall, Tonks, Kingsley, Mad-Eye, Sturgis, Blackthorn, and Drake – surrounded the procession as a sort of honor guard. Their wands were lit with blazes of fiery golden light to counter the darkening sky.

Walking side by side inside the ring the Order had created, Dad carried his daughter in his arms as Remus carried Harry. It should have been hard for both of them, carrying the weight of those grown-up bodies, but it was a burden they took up with pride.

McGonagall led the way to a platform where two coffins of pure white stone had been set. Harry and Ginny were laid on top of them; the limp lifelessness of their bodies made Ron look away for a moment.

Every single one of his brothers wept bitter tears; none of them even bothered pretending that they weren't. Mum was sobbing out loud, her face buried in Percy's shoulder. Beside Ron, Hermione was crying, too, her shoulders shaking with silent, racking sobs. He slipped an arm around her waist, and she leaned in to cry against his chest.

Off to the side of the platform was a high table, covered with a white drape. Upon it stood a candle, held in a brazier shaped like a phoenix.

McGonagall came and stood behind the table. She placed her hands on the brazier, and suddenly it was lit. Its clear, strong glow illuminated her face and those around her.

The people gathered in witness, already quiet, stilled even further.

"We have come here," she began in a soft voice that somehow echoed across the lawns, "to say our last farewell to Harry James Potter and Ginevra Molly Weasley. Two extraordinary souls who stood between us and Voldemort; two great heroes who, through their will, their courage, and their grace, allowed the Light to prevail once again."

There was a brief ceremony, silently conducted by McGonagall and Remus. At the end of it, the two of them carried the candle and set it between Harry and Ginny.

_Is that it? _Ron wondered. But nobody seemed to be moving.

When they returned to the table, there was a new air of expectancy.

"Now let us recall their lives," Remus said.

Ron realized he'd subconsciously been expecting something like this – and dreading it. He couldn't think of anything he wanted to say. He was glad he and Hermione and his brothers were alive. He was glad Voldemort was gone. He knew – he _knew _– that Harry and Ginny's deaths were not too high a price to pay for all that.

But he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud.

One by one, representatives from the gathered dignitaries, staff members of Hogwarts, students, family, and friends advanced to the now-empty table to speak.

The Minister of Magic rose first, and it took what little constraint Ron had left not to stand up and walk away. What did Scrimgeour know of Harry? All he had ever wanted was to use the Boy Who Lived as a Ministry mascot.

Besides, he didn't need someone else to tell him what his best friend had been like. He'd been with the Chosen One every step of the way, closer to Harry than Scrimgeour had ever dreamt of being. He had witnessed everything firsthand, laughing through good times and slogging through the bad, and standing beside him through all the times in between.

He didn't need anyone to tell him who his sister was, either. He'd lived with her all his life, hadn't he? He knew her annoying habits down to the last detail; he could name her favorite Quidditch player and which subject she hated most; he could list every dream and ambition she'd ever had. And what did Scrimgeour know about her?

Ron blocked the Minister's growling voice out of his mind. He was only aware of his own heavy breathing, his own feelings of grief. He stared out over the lake, toward the mountains that scraped the sky, hardly focusing.

Giant and centaur delegates stepped forward after the Minister, telling the assembled crowd of Harry's unfailing, unflinching determination and courage. Krum was there – he spoke on behalf of Durmstrang, praising Harry's bravery and skill. Several of Ginny's friends came up, sharing their memories of Ginny, of how she had always been kind, passionate, funny. Oliver and Angelina recognized their diligence and talent, both on the Quidditch field and off. Neville and Luna spoke together; timidly at first, their voices gaining strength as they finished.

Others spoke, though briefly. He made no move; neither did Hermione nor the rest of his family.

Night had fallen by the time the line of people waiting to speak had dwindled. Soon, only Remus was left.

He stood behind the table, his hands inside his pockets, and stared up at the starry sky for a moment.

"What is a hero?" he asked softly.

He paused again, still looking upward.

"Someone willing to bear a burden. Someone willing to accept a duty, willing to face an obstacle. Someone who is not infallible, someone who falters like the rest of us. Someone with flaws and sorrows and regrets, who makes mistakes with greater consequences than we could ever dream of."

He sighed.

"As those of us who were with them know," he said in a quiet, slow voice, "neither Harry nor Ginny were divine. They didn't have any supernatural powers that allowed them to defeat the Dark. They were more human, I think, than most of you gathered here would believe. In fact, they were _so _human that sometimes I think they would have been better off if they _were _godly. Gods don't deal with petty things like regret and worry and fear.

"I remember Harry saying to me once that he couldn't grieve for Sirius for fear that others would see him. People looked to him for hope and deliverance, he told me, and if they saw him in a moment of weakness, it would make them uncertain and doubtful.

"It pained me to hear him talk like that, to realize that he knew of and was complying with what the world wanted of him. It wasn't fair that he had to accept a duty he had never asked for, one that even the best among us would hesitate to take on. And no one, on top of that, should be forced to bottle up their emotions like that.

"I only wish, looking back, that I could have been there for him more often, so that he had someone to lean on when everyone else was falling back on him. I wish that we hadn't let him go through so much of this fight alone."

He shrugged his shoulders slightly, shifted his feet. He sighed again before going on.

"Sometimes…sometimes I wonder what it would have been like had his story been different. What it would have been like had he been an ordinary wizard with two parents and a godfather and a place to call home, just an average boy riding the roller coaster of teenage life. So much simpler, of course, and happier; maybe a bit less eventful.

"But when I consider the various people he could have turned out to be – the twists and turns his personality could have taken – I imagine someone completely unlike the Harry I knew.

"I have no doubt that Lily, James, Sirius, and I myself would have spoiled him into a rotten little brat. Of his Hogwarts years, I can only picture a cocky, arrogant little copy of James walking around the school. I can't associate any of the nobility, compassion, or willpower of the real Harry with this privileged version of him.

"And so, while I can't say that this was the best way, I feel that it certainly wasn't the worst. I don't think any other circumstances could have produced the combination of traits in him that made him the Chosen One; that brought him this far.

"I don't think Harry ever _wanted_ to be a hero. I don't think Ginny ever _considered _herself a hero. But they inspired the best in us; they brought forth strength and courage where there should have been none left. It's not that they were born with exceptional fortitude or extraordinary bravery. It's not that they were better than anyone else, for I believe we all have these qualities inside of us. What differs is the extent to which we discover and develop them.

"There are limits, of course; physical constraints, spiritual restrictions, mental boundaries. But Harry and Ginny exploited their abilities in such a way that they were able to overcome their limits. What motivated them to do this? I don't know."

He turned so that he was facing the coffins, where the light of the candle spilled out over Harry and Ginny. Ron saw a tear trickle down his cheek as he spoke again.

"My father once told me, when I was young, that there was a greater good in this world, something beyond my own life and the lives of those around me. I never quite understood that concept, or maybe I never grasped the scope of the world. I never believed that any of our actions could affect what happened elsewhere. And I never thought, at that age, that the importance of the future could outweigh the present. I never thought that you could give things up in the here and now to help people you didn't know – or ever _would _know – five or ten years later.

"And it is extraordinary to me that Harry and Ginny could think of this greater good and sacrifice themselves for it, for I can admit that I would still never think to do such a thing. And that, to me, is what made them heroes."

There was silence as Remus paused to let out a long breath.

"Regardless of what happened to them before," he said softly, "I know that for the past two years, they were in love with each other.

"It was the same kind of love I saw in Lily and James' eyes, and the same kind of love I myself hope to experience to the fullest someday. And I'd like to believe that their love was what saved them; love so strong that it couldn't keep them apart, not even in death. Because there was no place for him without her, and no place for her without him.

"Their lives and their deaths changed the way I think, the way I love, and the way I live. And even though I'll miss them, I know they're still both a part of me because of the change they produced in the world around them."

Remus bowed his head and stepped down from the table.

Ron closed his eyes, feeling the tears well in his eyes, and hugged Hermione tighter to him.

_I know they're still both a part of me…_

They truly had sent them to rest. For the first time since he had seen their bodies in the Hospital Wing, he felt at peace. The ache of their losses was still there, but it no longer felt like a wound that would never heal.

_Let go._

Let go of war, and battles, and blood.

_Let go._

Let go of the deaths, and keep the lives instead.

_Let go._

* * *

Up Next: Part 2, of course. 

_This is the way you left me,  
__I'm not pretending.  
__No hope, no love, no glory  
__No happy ending.  
__This is the way that we love  
__Like it's forever,  
__Then live the rest of our life  
__But not together.  
__– _**Happy Ending**, by **Mika**

Hey everyone, please review?


	30. The Price of War Part 2

Finally!

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* * *

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**The Price of War (Part 2) – **_"When I was a boy my grandfather died, and he was a sculptor. He was also a very kind man who had a lot of love to give the world, and he helped clean up the slum in our town; and he made toys for us and he did a million things in his lifetime; he was always busy with his hands. And when he died, I suddenly realized I wasn't crying for him at all, but for all the things he did. I cried because he would never do them again, he would never carve another piece of wood or help us raise doves and pigeons in the backyard or play the violin the way he did, or tell us jokes the way he did. He was part of us and when he died, all the actions stopped dead and there was no one to do them just the way he did…Often I think what wonderful carvings never came to birth because he died. How many jokes are missing from the world, and how many homing pigeons untouched by his hands. He shaped the world. He did things to the world. The world was bankrupted of ten million fine actions the night he passed on." – Granger, Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury_

**25 December, 1998, 6:18PM**

The stairs creaked beneath his feet as he thundered down, just the way they always had.

It was strange, he'd decided, how some things never changed. Strange how life went on when it seemed like it should have crashed to a halt; strange how quickly people adjusted to that continuous flow.

He saw Mum coming up toward him as he passed the fourth landing, impatiently tapping her wand on the pages of a cookbook. A stack of laundry floated up behind her.

She looked up when she heard his footsteps. "Oh, Ron, dear – have you seen Hermione?"

Ron shook his head. "I was just going to look for her. Why?"

"Oh, nothing – people will be arriving soon, and I just wanted to see if she was ready."

"She wasn't in her room," Ron shrugged, squeezing past the swaying laundry. "She's probably downstairs."

He went on past the third and second landings, peering around corners and calling her name as he went. He jumped the last few steps at the bottom and poked his head into the kitchen, but she wasn't there, either.

He found her at last in the living room, which was an explosion of color and light. Fred and George had spent the better part of the day decorating it by hand, in honor of the work Ginny had done in past years. Hermione was standing before the far wall, her hands in her pockets. He felt a smile tug on his lips, bittersweet and fleeting.

He walked up to her, quietly, and slid his arms around her waist. "I was wondering where you'd gotten to," he whispered as she glanced back in surprise.

"Sorry," she said quietly, turning to kiss his cheek. "I just…"

"I know," Ron murmured.

The wall they faced had been dedicated to Harry and Ginny. The entire side of the room had been cleared of the usual clutter characteristic of the Burrow and covered instead with pictures and letters, newspaper clippings and cards. Hedwig's and Arnold's cages had been set up in the corner, beside Harry's Firebolt.

The idea had been Percy's; he had suggested it the night after Ron had confessed to his brothers that he'd been having recurring nightmares in which he couldn't recall, for the life of him, what Harry looked like. It was a terrible but real fear – already the fine details of Sirius' and Dumbledore's and Hagrid's faces had started to fade. The last thing he wanted was for Harry – or Ginny – to become a victim of his memory.

Hermione had been staring at the newest addition to the memorabilia; two Chocolate Frog cards tacked up beside an old photograph. She slipped one hand out of her pocket to brush her fingers over the glossy surface of the cards.

**Harry James Potter  
**1980-1998  
Recognized throughout the world as the definitive champion of the Light, Harry Potter is widely proclaimed to have been the most powerful wizard in the world. In addition to his legendary battle with Lord Voldemort in 1998, he was also renowned for his brilliant talent as a Quidditch Seeker at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

**Ginny Weasley  
**1981-1998  
A sixth-year Hogwarts student popular for her formidable skill as a Quidditch Chaser and notorious for her Bat-Bogey Hex, Ginny Weasley played a vital role in the destruction of the Horcruxes and in the Battle for Hogwarts. She sacrificed her life in the Final Triumph so that Lord Voldemort could be destroyed once and for all.

They had begun circulating less than a month after the funeral. Ron carried one of each in his pocket.

"I wish they were here," Hermione whispered, smiling sadly at Ginny's beaming face.

"So do I," Ron murmured into her hair. He turned his face away and breathed in Hermione's scent, hoping it would ward away the tightness in his chest.

She shifted, turning so that she was facing him, and laid her head on his chest. "I still can't believe…" she said softly. "Just last year we were all here…and they were so happy…"

He had sworn not to cry. Not now, when everyone was supposed to be happy. It was a time for remembrance, not sorrow. "They still are," he said gruffly, trying to keep his voice from breaking. "They're probably having a grand old time wherever they are, and Harry's with his mum and dad and Sirius and Hagrid, finally. And they're still together, waiting for us, so it's all right." He took a deep breath, taking in her scent again. "Everything's all right."

"And they'd laugh at us for crying," Hermione said, sniffling as she wiped her eyes.

"They'd laugh at us anyway," Ron said, rolling his eyes, and was rewarded with a smile from her. He found her hand and squeezed it tightly. "Come on. Everybody'll be here soon, and Mum's going to make a fuss if we're not ready."

He glanced back one last time at Harry's face grinning at him from all the pictures on the wall. _Just so I'll never forget you, mate…_

––––––

Ron sighed as he flopped down on the couch, having just finished moving all the living room furniture off to the side with his brothers. Everyone had agreed that the kitchen was too small to accommodate the sixteen people who were going to be present for Christmas dinner, so Mum had decided to move the dinner tables into the living room. Of course, this meant that all the _other _tables and chairs and couches had to be pushed against the walls.

There was one small table in the corner that had been set up with hors d'oeurves and drinks; Mum was still in the kitchen banging away with her pots and pans for the main courses. Tonks was with her, attempting to help put the final touches on the dishes. From what Ron could hear of Mum's strained voice ("No, _not _there, those are the spoons – oh, watch the plate! No, the pot's behind – sweet Merlin, your sleeve's on fire!") the arrangement wasn't working out so well.

Shaking his head, Ron pulled out his wand and Summoned a glass of butterbeer from the corner table. He watched it maneuvering itself around various heads, then caught it deftly as it soared toward his head.

Hermione, who had been talking politely with Fleur and Gabrielle, had noticed the flying butterbeer and quickly excused herself to approach him.

"I thought you didn't like eggnog?" she asked teasingly as she sat down beside him.

He shrugged and drained his glass. "I don't," he said, grinning at her. "Fred and George charmed the last two bottles on the table; they're actually butterbeer."

Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded quite like "imbeciles," under her breath. Ron put his arm around her waist, pulling her close, and kissed the top of her head.

They sat like that for a while, content to listen to the bits of conversations that drifted around them as they waited for the stragglers to arrive.

Bill and Kingsley had joined Fleur and Gabrielle beside the enormous tree Charlie had set up; Kingsley, his face full of awe, had his hand on Fleur's burgeoning stomach ("Four months now, eh?") while Bill was laughing at a remark Gabrielle had made. Fred and George were sitting by the fire discussing Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes' new updates to Sturgis, who had expressed interest in running a chain store.

Percy and Mad-Eye were flitting in and out of the kitchen, talking animatedly about the new reforms the Ministry had planned. Mad-Eye was particularly enthusiastic in his threats to discipline Tonks and Kingsley if they didn't put satisfactory work into their new jobs as Chief Aurors. Charlie, meanwhile, was standing beside the hat stand, introducing Dad to his girlfriend, who had arrived just a few minutes ago. Her name, Ron had gathered, was Emma, and she had worked with Charlie for several years as a dragon keeper. She looked cheerful enough, but Ron reckoned he would eat dung before crossing her.

Just as he'd been about to Summon another glass of butterbeer, a large silver wolf suddenly burst through the door and stopped before Kingsley. He tapped it with his wand and then announced, "Remus will be here in a minute. Says he's sorry he's late."

"Well, I'm starved," Fred declared, standing up with George and Sturgis. "What's taking him so long?"

"I suppose the meeting just ran late," Kingsley shrugged. "You know how Minerva is. Hasn't ever taken anything lightly, especially not something that has to do with Hogwarts."

At that moment there was a sharp rap at the door and Ron saw a face peering in from the window.

"Lupin!" He and Hermione both stood up as Lupin swept in through the back door, bringing in a flurry of snow with him. There was a round of cheers and greetings as Ron took his coat and Hermione offered him a glass of butterbeer from the corner table. Lupin gladly accepted the butterbeer and took a sip before he was introduced to Emma. Fred, George, Charlie, and Bill were called into the kitchen to help transport the food; the others mingled outside, commenting on the weather.

"Remus," Mad-Eye said, nodding as he stumped out of the kitchen with his flask in hand. "Glad you could make it. Snape?"

Lupin shook his head. "Sent him a message a couple days ago, but there was never any reply."

Mad-Eye shrugged and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Your girl's been making a mess in there."

Hermione nudged Ron in the ribs as Remus blushed.

"Careful now, piping hot plates coming through!" Fred called as he marched into the living room, levitating several dishes piled high with steaming, mouth-watering foods before him. Ron and Hermione stood back as Fred, George, Charlie, and Bill arranged the plates on the tables under Mum's direction. Once Mum declared that everything looked reasonable, everyone sat down and began chattering again. Ron took a seat with Hermione on one side and Lupin on the other.

"So, Remus," Charlie said from across the table, "The staff say anything interesting at the meeting?"

Lupin shook his head as he spooned some peas and carrots onto his plate. "The usual things about security and rowdy students and such. Though Minerva did say they seem much tamer this year," he added, winking at Ron and Hermione.

"I heard a lot of them stayed for the holidays," Sturgis said.

Lupin nodded. "It's the older ones, mostly; they chose to help out with decorating the castle."

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other somberly; without Hagrid, it must have taken quite some effort to get the giant Christmas trees into the Great Hall.

"Did they say anything about Neville?" Hermione asked.

Lupin grinned. "They did, as a matter of fact – Professor Sprout _is _getting on in years, of course, so Minerva thought it best that he help out as an assistant in the greenhouses."

"That's great!" Ron said. "How's he doing?"

"Excellent – you know how he loves Herbology," Lupin said, laughing. "Gets along great with the younger students, apparently. He says he usually ends up telling stories more than teaching, though."

Ron grinned. "Neville telling stories. I never. Was he at the meeting? Did you ask him about the Marauder's Map?"  
"Yes – he told me to thank you for giving it to him."

"Harry would've wanted it to stay in Hogwarts," Ron shrugged.

Lupin grinned. "I'm sure you'll pass it on to your children next, eh?"

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, both of them a bit startled at the idea. Lupin and Charlie laughed.

"So how's that Auror training going, by the way?" Mad-Eye asked from farther down the table.

Ron poked at his mashed potatoes, afraid to look him in the eye. "Er…pretty well, I – I think…"

"Yeah?" Mad-Eye said, squinting at him. "Tonks!" he called, making Tonks jump and choke on a slice of ham.

"Yes, Mad-Eye?" Tonks asked weakly as Sturgis pounded her on the back.

"Weasley looking all right in the training? Not slacking?"

Tonks and Kingsley looked at each other, and then at Ron. He attempted to shrink into his seat. "Oh, not bad," Tonks said, winking at him. "Has a bit of trouble in Stealth and Tracking – "

" – Like some others among us," Lupin said out of the corner of his mouth.

" – but I reckon he'll be top notch in a year or so."

Mad-Eye grinned wickedly. "Well, you know where to find me if he starts getting lazy," he said.

Ron groaned as the others laughed.

"I'm sure you'll do fine, dear," Mum said soothingly as she passed on a plate of pork chops. "It's only your first year, after all."

"Speaking of the Ministry, how're you doing there, Remus?" Dad asked curiously.

Lupin took a swig of pumpkin juice before answering. "Rather well, actually. Newt Scamander's an interesting fellow."

"Isn't he the one Luna was talking about?" Ron asked Hermione. "Some sort of researcher?"

"Head of the Beast Division in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Ron," Hermione said, shaking her head. "You should know that by now."

"Anyway, he's been very understanding about the whole werewolf situation," Lupin went on. "We've been working on expanding the Werewolf Registry, and he said he's actually considered reclassifying werewolves into the Being Division."

"That's excellent," Bill said with a grin. "And if you ever need any help, Remus, I'll be around."

"By the way, did you hear about the new Being policy?" Sturgis said.

"I know Hermione wrote a column earlier this week about that," Charlie remarked, nodding at Hermione.

Hermione smiled, looking extremely pleased. Ron knew for a fact that she'd been especially proud of that particular article, and had spent what felt like hours discussing it with him.

"It was in Tuesday's paper," she said – a bit smugly, in his opinion – as she set down her fork. He was surprised she hadn't whipped out her notes. "Scrimgeour agreed to redefine 'Being' and they've finally accepted centaurs and giants as full members of the category, but any other races have to petition to be included. Like Remus said, they're still considering werewolves, but most of the other fine details have already been put in place."

"I'm surprised it hasn't been done sooner," Sturgis said with a frown.

"Well, you know Scrimgeour wants to go at his own pace," Kingsley said, snorting.

The conversation progressed to lighter subjects as dinner rolled on, including Lupin and Tonks' wedding and Charlie and Emma's engagement. Fred and George kept things lively by introducing new merchandise in the wrong places and the wrong times, and occasionally telling stories about befuddled customers who had found their way to the shop. During the funnier moments, Ron would sometimes catch himself looking around the table, wondering where Harry had gone; or he would bite off a teasing remark he'd been about to make about Ginny. No one else had mentioned them yet, and he wasn't sure he wanted to be the first to do so.

And so the clock ticked on; dishes were scraped clean and magically enhanced burps were compared (Emma was declared the winner, much to Charlie's delight) and several Celestina Warbeck songs were butchered by Fred, George, Charlie, and Bill.

Ron set his fork down after fourth helpings and adamantly refused his mother's insistence to have some more. When she fared no better in trying to persuade the others to eat, she eventually stood up and began to clear the table. While Charlie and Tonks helped her shuttle the dishes back to the kitchen, Ron, Bill, and Percy shifted the tables out of the way and assembled the various chairs and couches around the fire.

Fred and George were sent upstairs to get blankets, and soon everyone was cozily tucked under a quilt or a comforter or two. Ron found himself sitting in the saggy corner of the old, worn couch, fairly sinking into its depths. But it was comfortable nonetheless and Hermione was right beside him, so he forwent the complaints and wrapped a blanket tighter around himself and his bloated stomach.

Mum arrived from the kitchen at last, levitating trays of coffee and tea and firewhiskey. She sat down next to Dad and began distributing the drinks.

"So…any last minute presents?" Charlie asked eagerly, rubbing his hands together.

"None for you," Bill retorted, adopting a disdainful expression.

"Well, maybe one more," Emma said, and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"All right," Fred said, throwing his hands up in mock despair as Charlie turned a faint shade of red. "Why's it Charlie that gets all the action around here?"

"Honestly," George huffed, crossing his arms. "Where's Alicia when you need her?"

"And Angelina's off in some exotic country with her family, of course," Fred said mournfully.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "So _we're _stuck with you."

"We wouldn't put it that way," Fred said indignantly.

George stood up and gave a flourishing bow. "'Course not. You have the _privilege _of having our presence grace your holidays."

Charlie pretended to gag and everyone laughed.

"Well, I think it's nice, having everyone home," Mum said, bestowing Percy with a sweet smile.

_Not everyone, _Ron thought, and immediately chastised himself. _Can't think like that._

"Yeah, it means more presents," Fred grinned.

"Oh!" Mum said, shaking her head as she set the tray down on the table before her. "I almost forgot, Ron – your friends sent some things this afternoon…" She drew her wand and flicked it in the direction of the front door; several packages promptly whizzed toward her and landed neatly on the table.

"The envelope there is from Oliver Wood, I think," Mum said as Hermione shifted so that Ron could sit up. He reached for the small white envelope that sat atop a brown parcel and inspected it. Ron's name was printed neatly on the front in orange ink.

"Why would Oliver send _you_ something," Fred started, looking bemused.

"And not us?" George finished with a hurt look. "That ratty little scoundrel."

Ron shook his head as he opened the envelope and withdrew a festive Christmas card with Quaffles and Snitches whizzing around the front. He opened it to find words scrawled on the top and another, smaller envelope inside. He read aloud, _"Harry told me they're your favorite team. This is the least I could do. Merry Christmas."_

He glanced quizzically at his brothers, but they seemed just as nonplussed as he did. Shrugging, he opened the smaller envelope and took out a stack of thin black cards with orange borders, each of which sported the words "1999-2000 Season Tickets" in glittering silver letters, the Chudley Cannons' logo in the center, and Oliver's name signed at the bottom.

Ron stared at the cards for a moment, blankly turning them over in his hands several times as the words sunk in.

"Season tickets," he said into the silence.

Fred and George suddenly let out a whoop as they leapt up and danced around the circle of chairs. "Go Oliver!"

"Season tickets!" Ron repeated, turning excitedly to Hermione and waving the cards in her face. "Season tickets for the Cannons! Look how many there are – there's got to be one for each of us, at least – this is excellent!"

"Crazy kid," Charlie murmured, accepting his card and looking at it wonderingly. "Oliver Wood, you brilliant _nutter!"_

"So long as it doesn't interfere with training," Mad-Eye said lazily, leaning back and putting his arms behind his head. He gave Ron a wolfish grin.

"Oh, stop it, Mad-Eye," Tonks said, waving a hand dismissively. "You don't get season tickets every year."

"This one's pretty heavy," George observed, hefting the second package. "From…Dean Thomas?"

"Dean?" Hermione asked curiously. "What would Dean…?"

"To Ron, Hermione, and the Order of the Phoenix," George read off the card before he handed it to Ron. "This was the best I could do. Merry Christmas."

Ron met Hermione's eyes and shrugged. They didn't even talk to Dean regularly; they'd had maybe two or three conversations since June when they'd met by chance in Diagon Alley. Ron hadn't the faintest idea what Dean would want to send them.

He tore off several layers of magically-cushioned wrapping and gaped at what he saw underneath.

"Oh my God," Hermione breathed, putting a hand to her mouth.

"What is it?" Fred demanded, half-standing from his chair; the others all crowded around to see what was so shocking.

In his lap, Ron held a portrait of Harry.

It was silent in the room as they stared at the perfect likeness that Dean had drawn. Harry was apparently asleep; his head was drooping to one side and his glasses were slipping down his nose.

"That's _brilliant," _Percy whispered. "Dean Thomas drew this?"

"Now I remember," Sturgis said, retreating back to his chair. "Dean Thomas. He's one of the main artists for Obscurus Books and WhizzHard Books in Diagon Alley, isn't he?"

"Yeah," Ron said, nodding. "He'd always been amazing at drawing things."

Hermione brushed her hand over the painting, her fingers trembling as they traced the almost-life-size outline of Harry's face. Ron looked at her to see that tears were slipping down her cheeks.

"There's another one," Percy said suddenly, pointing. Ron lifted Harry's portrait up to reveal another framed drawing – this one of Ginny.

There was a small sob from Mum, and Dad wrapped her arms around her. Bill rocked back on his heels and turned his face away. Ron felt his chest tighten as he stared at his sister's serene face; she, too, seemed to have fallen asleep.

"That's beautiful," Hermione said softly, her voice wavering.

"We should put them up," George said.

"Yeah," Fred agreed, taking Harry's portrait from Ron as George carried Ginny's toward the wall.

"Permanent sticking charm?" George asked Mum over his shoulder.

"As long as they don't start wailing and howling whenever someone knocks," Tonks said jokingly. Beside her, Lupin's eyes had a glazed quality to them.

Fred and George shifted a few things around and soon had Harry and Ginny's portraits up in the center of the wall. They returned to their chairs and everyone admired Dean's handiwork for another moment or two.

Conversation was eventually struck up again by Fred and George, who made a snarky comment about Dean's choice of clothes for Harry – Ron had to admit, they were a rather odd shade of red – which prompted a scolding from Mum. Ron grinned to himself and leaned back further into the couch.

Hermione set her empty cup of tea on the table before them and yawned. She stuck her tongue out at him when he smirked ("Tired already?") and closed her eyes.

He didn't contribute much to the ensuing debate over whether Celestina Warbeck or the Weird Sisters were better; it was much more amusing to see Mum trying to have a civilized argument with Fred and George. Tonks surreptitiously switched the station on the wireless while Mum was maintaining that Celestina had a clearer voice and greater range, so that soft Christmas carols were playing in the background.

He discovered that Hermione had already dozed off beside him, her head on his shoulder. His arm had fallen asleep beneath her weight, but he didn't mind. He put his cheek lightly against her hair and sighed contentedly.

He was beginning to feel drowsy himself as the heat of the fire and warm laughter surrounded him, and he kept himself moderately awake by sipping at the glass of firewhiskey he held in his hand. As Fred and George raucously declared victory on the debate, Ron suddenly noticed that Harry had finally awoken in his portrait and was beaming at the gathering before him. Ron caught his eye and grinned back.

Raising his glass of firewhiskey, he nodded to Harry and said quietly,

"Merry Christmas, mate."

* * *

This was more of a tying-up-loose-ends chapter, so we have no idea why it turned out so long. :P

Up Next: Celebrations abound as the first anniversary of the Second War's end draws near, and the last of Lord Voldemort's followers faces fading away alone. But then a visitor comes, to say all the things that have been left unsaid. (Epilogue!)

Thanks for the reviews, again, and we hope you'll keep them coming. We want to say the epilogue will be up by next Sunday, but we all know that's not going to happen. So just hang in there, folks, we're almost done!


	31. Epilogue

Well, this is probably the first time we've ever met a deadline. Hope everyone had a happy thanksgiving, and hope you enjoy. :)

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**Epilogue – A Final Farewell – **_"There is no Light without Darkness, nor is there Darkness without Light."_

**4 June, 1999, 8:14AM  
**Remus dug out a quill from a mess of papers and candy wrappers on the counter and salvaged a crumpled post-it note from the crammed bulletin board.

_Out for the morning, _he scribbled._ Be back by – _

"Going somewhere?"

Remus looked up to see Tonks shuffle out of the bedroom, attempting to stifle a yawn.

"I was just writing a note," he said with a smile, holding up the unfinished post-it. "You're up early."

Tonks sighed glumly and trudged into the kitchen. She sat down at the table and flicked her wand at the coffee maker. "Gotta be in by ten today," she said, setting her elbows down and rubbing her eyes. "There's a load of new recruits coming in."

Remus grinned as he bent down to kiss her on the forehead. "Good luck. I've just got someone I have to see down in London."

Tonks nodded as she Summoned her mug of coffee. "Don't be too late."

"I won't," he replied as he grabbed his wallet and headed for the door.

Once outside, he stood on the doorstep of his flat for a moment, blinking in the bright summer light. He slipped his hand in his pocket and felt the touch of cool metal in his palm. Reassured, he took a deep breath and Disapparated.

––––––

The broad, store-lined streets of London were relatively empty – probably because it was so early, Remus mused. Most of the shops hadn't even opened yet. But there would be many festivities later in the day, of course, even in the Muggle sectors.

He strolled at a leisurely pace, basking in the warmth and thinking about what he was going to say. It was exactly one year ago that they'd last seen each other, and they had not parted in the friendliest of circumstances. Remus certainly wouldn't have had anything to discuss with him now, if it weren't for Harry. He fingered the cool metal in his pocket again.

He eventually made it up to the large, red brick department store labeled Purge and Dowse Ltd. It was as shabby and grimy as ever, with the same chipped dummies posing in the dusty display window. He approached the female dummy standing in the forefront, leaned close, and said clearly, "Remus Lupin, from the Ministry."

The dummy gave a nearly imperceptible nod and beckoned its finger. Remus stepped through the glass.

Like the streets outside, the reception area had a considerably calmer air than other times. Only a dozen or so people waited in the lobby, most of them scrutinizing outdated magazines or dozing off. Remus waited patiently while a man conferred with the receptionist witch; he had what appeared to be a banana tree sprouting from his backside. Once he had been directed to the third floor, the witch turned to Remus with a bright smile.

"Hello, welcome to St. Mungo's," she said cheerfully, undeterred by the grotesque appearances of various patients passing by. Behind her, Dilys Derwent beamed at him from her portrait.

"Hello," Remus said. "My name's Remus Lupin. I made an appointment for 8:30 this morning, I know I'm a bit early…"

"Oh yes, Mr. Lupin," the witch said, nodding as she consulted the list before her. "Mr. Remus Lupin, 8:30. Fourth floor, room 407. Visiting hours are until eleven, so you have plenty of time, sir."

"Thank you," Remus said, and turned toward the double doors beside the desk. He made his way down a short, well-lit corridor before coming to the stairs. He climbed the four flights, squeezing past babbling patients and chattering visitors and flustered nurses, until he reached the fourth floor.

The corridors here were rather empty; motes of dust danced in the sunlight streaming through the windows and his footsteps echoed down the hall. He passed only one Healer, who nodded to him in greeting, before he arrived before room 407.

The card beside the door read:

_Long-Term Patient  
__Healer-In-Charge: Oliver Raffensperger  
__Visiting Hours: 8AM-11AM, 2PM-4PM_

Squaring his shoulders, Remus took a deep breath before pushing the door open.

It was a small room; about twice the size of his kitchen, if he'd had to guess. Unlike other wards, it and others along this corridor had been originally designed to accommodate only one patient as a long-term resident. It was sparsely furnished, with just one window, a small table with two chairs, and a worn couch. The walls were completely bare.

To his right, propped up on several pillows in a solitary ray of sunlight, was Severus Snape.

Remus looked him straight in the eyes and managed to smile. "Hello, Severus."

The sallow-faced man – he looked paler and older than ever – had looked up when Remus first entered; after seeing who it was, he lay back on his pillows.

"Funny," he said in a low, raspy voice, "isn't it, _Remus? _How you get to be on a first-name basis with everyone once they know you're dying."

Remus had closed the door behind him, but he made no move to approach the bed. "So it's true," he said.

"Of course it is," Snape said flatly. He didn't elaborate any further.

"I came to see how you were doing," Remus offered.

"How touching," Snape muttered.

Remus sighed. He still hadn't moved. "We missed you at Christmas. Severus...if you'd told us then, we could have helped you."

"Don't call me Severus."

Remus shook his head and slipped his hand in his pocket again. "We fought a war together. It's been – how long? Two decades."

"I love holding grudges," Snape replied sharply.

Remus studied the man lying in the bed, more helpless than anyone had ever imagined he could be. The Order had received word of his mysterious illness only two months ago. He had previously been assumed missing as of Christmas last year, when all attempts to contact him had failed. Then, suddenly, he had checked in to St. Mungo's in the middle of March and refused to see visitors. At first, the Healers had thought his malady was some sort of mutated strain of dragon pox, but none of the cures seemed to work. They then decided that it was some rare hybrid of Withering Syndrome and Muggle cancer, to which they announced there was no cure.

So far, Snape had lost the use of his legs and his left arm and was confined to his bed. Eventually this paralysis would spread to his entire body, including his heart. Madam Pomfrey had offered him a private room in the Hospital Wing, away from the bustle of a public hospital. He had refused.

The silence stretched on for some time. Snape's breathing sounded shallow.

"Last Marauder, aren't you?" he finally rasped, still not looking at Remus.

Remus nodded. "And you're the last of the loyal Death Eaters."

Snape snorted. "Good riddance."

"You're happy your colleagues are dead?" Remus asked, raising his eyebrows.

"They were imbeciles," Snape said shortly.

It was quiet again. Remus ran his thumb over the smooth engravings on the metal in his pocket as his eyes traveled across the room. There was no clock.

"Why did you come?" he asked softly.

There was no reply.

"Why did you come back, after you killed Dumbledore? After you took Harry?"

The words filled the room and dissolved in the air. When Snape spoke, his tone was impassive.

"I promised Dumbledore."

"Promised him what?" Remus asked perplexedly. He had never heard this before.

"That I would help Harry."

"And you kept your promise?"

"Unlike others," Snape said, and there was a note of bitterness in his voice.

Remus turned toward the window. "You know what today is?"

He thought Snape was going to say something caustic, but the answer was simple: "Of course."

"He was 17," Remus said, almost to himself. "Younger than James and Lily were. Ginny was only a year younger."

"He was a fool," Snape said. For a split second, Remus thought there was regret lacing his tone.

Remus swallowed against the lump that had formed in his throat. "He didn't want to die. Did he tell you that, while he was with you?"

"No."

"I think he believed in miracles, right until the end. Right up to when he told Wormtail to kill him. Dumbledore – "

Snape finally shifted to look at him, and Remus turned to meet his gaze. "If you're going to spit nonsense about miracles and love, you can leave now," he said coldly.

Remus stared at him. "You still don't believe in them."

"Why should I?" he said harshly. "Love didn't save anyone. That's what I told Dumbledore, and he fooled me for the second time in my life. Let me die in peace, Remus Lupin, with what few beliefs I have left that are still untarnished by your follies."

"Dumbledore didn't fool you, and neither did we," Remus said firmly. "Without love – "

"It didn't save your friends, Lupin," Snape spat. "Love didn't save the Marauders or Cedric Diggory or those in the Order or Albus Dumbledore. Love didn't save your precious _hero _and his girlfriend, either, did it?"

It was odd, how hollow his accusations sounded. Any antagonism Remus might have felt at these words died away, because there was an unmistakable undertone of grief in Snape's voice.

"No," he said thoughtfully. "It didn't save them. But it did save _us."_

Snape snorted and turned away.

"Besides, it depends on your definition of being saved," Remus continued. "True, love didn't save Harry or Ginny or Hagrid or Hestia from death. They were forced to sacrifice their lives. But it saved them from temptation, Severus. It saved them from giving up and giving in, from succumbing to the desire to just back away and hand the burdens to someone else."

"What good is that, if the outcome is the same?" Snape asked. "Harry didn't want to die, you said. He didn't want to fight, Dumbledore told me. He survived because of love, everyone insists. So he didn't turn to the dark side. So he fulfilled his prophecy, so he didn't fail. That doesn't change the fact that he's dead."

Remus sighed. "Always the pessimist, aren't you?"

"Miracles and love don't work," Snape said adamantly. "You won't convince me otherwise by the time I'm dead, either."

Remus wondered at the stubbornness of this bedridden man. What would prevent someone from denying a power so universal? Had he lost every ounce of his hope, his faith? How could he not accept something that was clearly thriving within him? He _had _to believe in the good – that was why he had come back, wasn't it?

"It's real, Severus, and it exists in all of us."

Snape grunted.

"And you believe in it, too."

He seemed to have given up on arguing. "Why would I?" he asked wearily.

"It's the reason you came back. It's the reason you helped Harry and kept your promise."

"But it's never done me any good."

"Maybe," Remus shrugged. "But maybe you didn't try hard enough."

"And what would I have gotten out of that? Salvation?" He snorted again.

Remus looked at him sadly. "What you've always wanted. Everything stems from love. Peace of mind. Justice. Forgiveness. Power."

"Power?" There was disbelief in his voice.

"Isn't that what Dumbledore always said?" Remus asked him simply. "Love is the most powerful magic in the world."

Snape said nothing, but closed his eyes.

Remus moved from his position at last; he slowly made his way up to Snape's bed, watching Snape's eyes open again as he drew near. He stopped just two paces from the edge, so close that they could have reached out and touched each other.

Wordlessly, Remus finally took out the object in his pocket. It glinted in the light as he brought it out, dangling on a gold chain, and Snape's eyes widened as they caught sight of it.

Remus set it down on the bedside table and Snape swiveled his head, following it.

After a moment of silence, Remus nodded at the gleaming pendant. "Harry wanted you to have it."

Snape eventually tore his gaze from it to look at Remus questioningly.

Remus reached up and gently tugged out an identical pendant from under his shirt. "It's a mark of the Order – everybody has one. He gave the first one to Ginny and wore one himself. It was Harry's last gift to us; part of his will."

And in the words Remus had spoken hung the tacit decision the Order had made, the decision Remus had come to share before it was too late:

_You are a member of the Order of the Phoenix._

They had debated long and hard over the matter. So many things had condemned Snape, even before he had killed Dumbledore. After he had turned traitor, Minerva had firmly declared him an exile, an outcast. But, Remus insisted, things had changed once he returned. Didn't his recent actions prove something? He had helped Harry in a way no one else could have. He had fought against his fellow Death Eaters and ultimately killed Bellatrix Lestrange.

"It took courage, to do what you did," Remus said quietly. "To return. Dumbledore trusted you, and I do too. Harry believed you were a good man, and so do I."

Snape shook his head roughly, as if trying to ward away demons. "I'm not. I was never what you thought I was."

Remus shrugged. "Whether you acknowledge it or not, we've accepted you as one of us. Do you want to put it on?"

A slight pause; then Snape nodded.

Remus picked up the pendant from the table and stepped closer. Snape rose from the bed with some difficulty, but Remus knew better than to offer help. He unclasped the chain and reached forward. Snape flinched slightly at his touch, so he took care to finish the job without further contact.

When he was done, he retreated a few steps again. Snape leaned his head back against his pillows as a long sigh escaped him.

"Idiot boy," he murmured, closing his eyes; Remus could barely catch what he was saying. "Like father…like son, eh? Except…the eyes…"

And they had nothing more to say to each other, so Remus turned away. As his hand touched the doorknob, Snape spoke again.

"I'll be gone by tomorrow morning."

Remus didn't ask how he knew. Didn't ask why Snape was telling him this. "Tomorrow morning," he repeated.

"I suppose this is goodbye," Snape said gruffly.

"I suppose so," Remus agreed. Was he sad? He wasn't surprised, at any rate. Maybe he would find out later. He turned the doorknob and opened the door. For some reason, the word '_goodbye' _wouldn't come from his throat.

Before he closed the door, he glanced back once more. Snape was still lying with his head back, his eyes squeezed shut and tears trickling down his cheeks. His right hand was clutched into a fist, holding the silver phoenix hanging around his neck.

True to his word, it was the last Remus would see of Severus Snape.

–––––––

He stood before the two graves, a single white lily in his hand. He squatted down and placed the flower reverently in front of Harry's tombstone. Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply.

_Everything stems from love. Peace of mind. Justice. Forgiveness. Power._

_Power?_

_Isn't that what Dumbledore always said? Love is the most powerful magic in the world._

Remus felt a smile tug at his lips as tilted his head back toward the clear summer sky. No one else had seen Harry's face before his body had been lowered into the coffin. No one else had seen the faded outline of a scar that was no longer there.

_Powerful enough…to heal any scar._

* * *

**The End.**

We played around with that ending a lot, especially since we wanted that last word to be "scar." But anyway, you have no idea how relieved we are to say that this is really _The End. _What was supposed to take us four months has been dragged out into a whopping eight months and twenty days, and we're simply amazed that so many people have stuck it out with us until this moment. Thank you so much to everyone – for putting up with our complaints and excuses, for waiting ridiculous periods of time between chapters, and for all the enthusiasm you put into reviews. We also extend special thanks to those who've been with us from the beginning; most notably **Moon Goddess** for her encouragement, advice, and critique.

So now we'd like to say farewell, and good luck on your own writing endeavors. We hope your final impression of this story was a good one, and we hope you review this time. ;)

With gratitude,

_jynkyg _and _The Fat Chipmunk_

P.S. – If on the off chance you'd like to continue reading our works, our next project will be **50 Things That Really Matter, **a series of 50 one-shots we started a long time ago and postponed in favor of this story. We hope you stay tuned!


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